Ablaze
by 4-Evah-Anonymous
Summary: When you're left to burn, maybe a loud-mouthed American hero is just what you need. High school AU sortta , contains witchcraft, USUK, Spamano, GerIta and a fair amount of other pairings. Rated M for violence, language and sex in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own HETALIA**

-chapter 1-

Ever since he was born, Arthur Kirkland was different from other children. Now, usually, being different meant being unique or talented. The only people who thought that way about Arthur were his parents. To everyone else in their tiny British town, the young boy's peculiarities were disturbing and undesirable at best.

It began when Arthur was four. His parents sent him to daycare while they worked. His father, Henry Kirkland, wrote gloriously fantastical novels about knights, fairies, giants, kings and magic. He hated having to leave his son without either of his parents, so, to make it up to him, he'd read Arthur the stories he wrote. His mother, Victoria, was a florist and had a shop in that she ran in the nearby city.

While he was at daycare, Arthur ignored all the other children and only spoke to the adults when he really needed something. This confused and worried the workers a bit, however, they assumed he was just shy, and they came to the conclusion to try and help him out of his shell by offering him toys to play with.

He refused one after another, explaining, very simply and logically in his opinion, that he didn't need them. This confused one woman even further.

"why ever not? Don't you like to play, Arthur?"

The tiny blond shrugged. "I am playing. Can't you see them?" he gestured around to the empty air. The worker looked around, perplexed.

"them? Who are they?"

He gave her what seemed to be an increasingly annoyed look and an exasperated sigh. "they're my friends. Can't you see them? They're right in front of you."

Now, this woman had had kids of her own and had gone through the imaginary friend phase with each of them. They had been down-right convinced of their friends' existence but never had they asked anyone else if they could see them as though they were so obviously right there. She wouldn't have assumed much more than an overactive imagination if it weren't for the boy's utter seriousness. What took the crazy cake, however, was at that moment, he turned his head fractionally to stare directly past her face, those large green eyes completely in focus. They widened dramatically and his huge eyebrows furrowed in distress. "No, Lizzie, don't do it!" at that second, the woman felt a sharp painful pinch at her cheek, right from where the boy was staring. She let out a yell of shock and pain and sprung to her feet, shooting out of the room, quick as a bullet.

She fumbled with the phone in her attempts to call the little...little freak's father to come get him. She nearly dropped the phone when she heard the little blond's voice say quietly. "now look what you've done...I'm in trouble."

When Henry arrived at the daycare, he spotted his son immediately. The unruly mop of gold locks wasn't difficult to spot, yet neither was the 10 foot distance that everyone else gave him. Good lord, they were avoiding him like the plague!

His little boy was seated against a wall, glaring sadly at the air in front of him. Henry walked over and picked him up. "time to come home now, King Arthur."

Arthur smiled happily at the nickname. He held tight to the front of his father's shirt as the daycare workers' glares settled on them. The woman from before stepped forward. "we don't want him here again." she spat.

Henry returned with a dark glare that could have crippled any man. "good. Because we will not be back."

With that, he stomped outside to his car. He set Arthur in his seat and buckled him in. He got into the driver's seat and let out a sigh.

"Arthur, son, why did you hit that woman?"

Arthur boiled with unbridled four-year-old rage at the sick injustice of it all. "I didn't hit that lady! It was Lizzie! And it wasn't a hit! It was a pinch." Arthur felt that the case he had made for his innocence was perfectly air tight.

Henry merely took one look at the stubborn pout fixed on his son's round face and laughed heartily. "of course, Artie."

Arthur smiled smugly. "Success!"

Success, it turns out, is short-lived. When they looked for a new daycare center the next day, not one of them would take him. It seemed that word had traveled faster than the Kirklands had anticipated. Yet, for the next few years, Arthur was in heaven. One of his parents were always home and he was learning something new every day.

His father taught him to play the piano, to play chess, and with his help, Arthur was reading bigger and bigger books everyday.

Victoria taught her son to paint and sew. She had attempted to teach him to cook as well but it seemed the poor thing was genetically predisposed to being inept in the kitchen. The first and only attempt was on of Victoria's days off during the week of Henry's birthday.

She walked up the stairs to Arthur's room. She found him in the center of the room, using it like a stage. He was dressed in Henry's red bathrobe (which trailed onto the floor due to Arthur's small stature) and a paper pirate hat on which he had drawn a sloppy skull. He held a wooden sword tight in his tiny hands and was swinging it around, pretending to fight invisible opponents.

She laughed and kneeled down in front of her now six-year-old son. "would you like to help me bake your father cookies, Captain Kirkland?"

She smiled at the way his emerald eyes lit up at the thought of being able to help. He nodded vigorously and trotted down the stairs after his mother. She took him into the kitchen and they set to work.

An hour or so later, Arthur sat on the kitchen floor, sobbing over a tray full of horrendously burnt cookies. It took two bowls of ice cream, an hour of his mother hugging him and about a hundred assurances that they weren't that bad to get him to stop.

What he lacked in culinary skills, little Arthur made up for in embroidery and sewing. It amazed Victoria to see the skillful stitches those tiny hands could produce.

During this time, his parents were also preparing for his first day of school. They bought him a bag, supplies and told him all about school and how he should behave. When the day finally came, they both went to drop him off, handing him his lunch, waving him good bye and telling him to have a nice day.

Unfortunately for Arthur, news of him had continued to travel quickly in their tiny town. All the kids, teachers and parents had been warned about the Kirkland boy. He was shunned all throughout the first day and ignored by all the teachers. Kids stole his lunch and kicked sand in his face. And no one helped him.

He got into his parents' car that afternoon with tears spilling down his cheeks. His mother turned around, unhooking the golden locket she always wore from around her neck. She leaned over and hooked it around her son's.

"here, Arthur...you can have this now. Everyone I feel sad, I open it up and know that I'm not alone." she kissed his forehead and popped the locket open. Only one half was filled. It was a picture of Victoria, Henry and a one-year-old Arthur. He looked down at it then back up at her in awe.

"We'll always love you, King Arthur." Henry added with a warm smile. "don't ever let them see you cry."

The next day was much like the last, as were the following days and weeks. But Arthur dealt with it far better. He ignored it mostly and he didn't come home crying again. Well, that is, until one day, months into the school year. He was sitting in the field near the playground, helping Lizzie gather ladybugs into a basket. Lizzie was his best friend. She was a fairy girl, around his age, with long, brown, curly hair. She always wore dresses but was most definitely a tomboy. Her real name wasn't Lizzie but neither of them could pronounce it very well so the nickname stuck. Arthur was working on it though but at the moment, it came out more like 'Liz'veta'.

Anyway, just as Arthur was placing another one of the red crawly things into the basket, a large group of kids came over, gathering in a circle around them (or rather, him, as the other children couldn't see Lizzie). Suddenly, Arthur's ears were met with a barrage of questions and rude comments.

"who are you talking to?"

"what's wrong with you?"

"do you hear voices?"

"are you crazy?

"what a weirdo!"

Arthur said nothing and one boy, upset by his lack of reaction, got right in Arthur's face. "hey, Freak! Pay attention!"

Just then, he spotted a glint of gold around Arthur's neck. He grabbed it and pulled. A cruel smile passed over his face. "you wear jewelry? What are you, a girl?"

Arthur frowned. "it's my mum's. Let go."

"aw! Your mum's? Let's see how mummy will like it when it's in pieces!"

Arthur let out a wail as the boy started to pull. "let go, you bloody git!"

Lizzie growled with anger and picked up the basket of bugs. She dumped them all on the bully's head then promptly smacked him upside the head with the basket itself.

He yelled and stumbled back, letting go of Arthur's locket.

There was a deafening silence for a few seconds before the children's frantic shouts came in louder than ever.

"did you see that?"

"the basket floated!"

"Arthur did it!"

"freak!"

"psycho!"

"weirdo!"

"_**WITCH**_!"

Silence fell again as their attention snapped to the boy who started it all.

"my dad told me! My dad's a priest and he told me that people who do things like that are witches! That they should die!"

The yelling started again, even louder.

"he's a witch!"

"witch!"

"kill the witch!"

The first stone struck him in the arm, hard.

Arthur let out a yelp, turning to see that, one by one, each child was picking up rocks of various sizes.

Then everything was a flurry of pain.

Stones hit him everywhere, one after another, relentlessly, and a constant chant of 'WITCH! WITCH! WITCH!' filled his ears.

After several seconds, perhaps a minute or so, of this, Arthur felt blood running down his skin and he fell unconscious in the grass as the school bell rang, dismissing the children for the day.

Lizzie stood, dumbstruck by the children's actions. Fairy children were never this horrible. Sure, they were known for being mischievous but never downright violent like this.

She watched in horror as her human friend fell to the ground. She picked up all the rocks that had been thrown, using her skirt as a basket. In a wrath-fueled storm, she threw one stone after another at the children, effectively causing them to run away screaming.

She knelt down next to Arthur, her anger subsiding. "Arthur...? Come on. Your parents must be here to get us by now! We can go home and you can sew me a new dress! Please...wake up..." she was shaking him and hitting his back lightly.

He groaned and sat up, entire body throbbing with pain. Lizzie smiled in relief and helped him to his feet. Tears poured down his face as she helped him walk to where his parents always parked.

When she spotted her son, Victoria let out a yell of shock. She got out of the car and rushed to his side. She picked him up and put him in the car carefully. Henry gasped and immediately sped away with them to the hospital.

Through the following 10 years, it only got worse.

Arthur noticed at age 13, he had an uncanny and frightening ability. Even without Lizzie around, strange things happened around him. Furniture would move as he got angry, people would keel over as though they had been punched when they picked on him, and he'd get odd dreams of events that sure enough came to pass. People shunned him still and a brave few risked hurting him, but between Lizzie and her lethal frying pan and Arthur's strange powers, they didn't have much of a chance.

One day, his 16th birthday to be exact, he was walking home beside Lizzie. She was begging him to let her beat a few of the other kids within an inch of their lives.

Arthur sighed and picked a bit of cat hair off his green sweater vest. He didn't own a cat but he set food and water out for the strays every day. "it would do more harm than good, Elizaveta. As much as I'd like to let you bash their bloody heads in, I can't."

She shot the British boy a pleading look. "what if I went when you weren't around?"

He shook his head. "they'd still find a way to blame me."

She sighed. "I guess you're right..."

They passed through the gate and into Arthur's front yard. He saw his mother tending to the garden, her long golden hair tucked up into her gardening hat. She smiled at him and stood up, gesturing him inside. He followed her curiously, large eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

She led him to the dining room where a large box sat on the counter. She sat down and he sat across from her. Lizzie stood behind him, watching the scene. Victoria lifted the lid of the box. "these are for you, Arthur. Your father and I have been keeping them safe for you."

Inside there was a large black tome and a deck of old-looking cards. Beside those was a jar of what looked to be salt and a box of white chalk.

Arthur's confusion settled in. "mum...what is this stuff?"

She smiled smiled and took out the jar. "these are blessing salts. They're for protection." next she took out the chalk. "I can imagine you know what to do with this." she pulled out the cards and spread them on the table carefully. "these tarot cards have been in my family for a long time. They're yours now." finally she set the old dusty volume on the table with a thump. "this book holds everything you'll ever need. From natural medicines and cures to ways to brew tea to how to build tolerances to poisons."

Arthur sat in awe at the gifts. "w-why...?"

She smiled. "because you have great power, my son...you can see and do things that others can't. Oh, and one more thing." she turned her head to look directly past Arthur. Directly at Lizzie. "take good care of him, Elizaveta."

The fairy girl stared at her, awestruck for a moment until she nodded slowly. "I'll do my best, Mrs. Kirkland."

Victoria smiled at Arthur and Lizzie before hugging her son and returning to her garden.

Arthur smiled and packed up the box. He walked up to his room with Lizzie right behind him. He set the box on his bedside table.

That night, he slept peacefully, enjoying the comfort his mother gave him. His father came in later, setting his own gift in the box as well. It was a finished book entitled 'King Arthur' by Henry J Kirkland.

Henry sat beside his son and just took in how much he had grown. He was no longer the tiny, round-faced toddler that he had bounced on his knee. Now he was a strapping 16-year-old growing into quite the clever young man. He looked more and more like his mother everyday from his golden hair to his brilliant green eyes to his delicate bone structure. It seemed the only things he had gotten from his father were his slight build and those enormous eyebrows.

Henry laughed as he tried to find a member of his side of the family who didn't have those ridiculous caterpillar brows.

He patted his son's hair and smiled. He loved watching Arthur grow and mature. He loved celebrating each and every one of his milestones and he loved the look in his wife's eyes when their son would beat him in chess or sew something special for them.

He stood up with a sigh. He loved his family more than anything and it was wonderful to see his son's usually tense expression soften into one of peace.

Sadly, peace was short-lived as well, for precisely one year later, Arthur awoke to his house blazing and going up in smoke and fire.

~~~~  
><strong>AN:<strong>

**Wow!~ This is my first Hetalia story and, yes, there will be many pairings though EnglandxHungary will not be one of them. I love both characters but in this they are just friends. :D Anyway, the main pair will be USUK, believe it or not with a LIIIIIITTLE BIT of onesided FRUK. CUZ I CAN. Definitely some Spamano and GerIta. OH. And yeah, I made Hungary a fairy. Don't bother me, I thought it'd be cute.**

**REVIEW PLEEEEEEEASE!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Hetalia.**

**A QUICK WORD TO MY REVIEWERS!** **I love you guys soooooo much. and I hope that you will continue to review this as I go. **

-Chapter 2-

Arthur couldn't see a thing through the thick black billows of smoke that surrounded him. He coughed painfully, the tendrils cramming themselves into his lungs, as he stumbled from his smoldering bed. He made his way to the door, trying to throw it open in haste but withdrawing his scorched hand sharply from the scalding metal surface of the door knob.

His breath came in hacking coughs as he fumbled around blindly for another way out. Before he could even make it to the window, however, a shower of embers rained down on him from above. He turned away to shield his eyes and that's when he spotted the box on his bedside table. He hadn't moved it in a year. He snatched it up and stuffed it under his jacket.

Just then, a shout echoed up from the lower floor. "ARTHUR! ARE YOU UP THERE? ARTHUR!"

At the sound of Lizzie's voice, he tried once again to slam the door open frantically. "ELIZAVETA! I CAN'T GET THE DOOR OPEN! GET OUT BEFORE THE WHOLE PLACE COMES DOWN!"

"I'm not going anywhere without you! You have to get out!"

Arthur began kicking, shoving and pounding against the door with renewed fervor, knowing that Lizzie would never listen to him now. one particularly forceful kick sent the door flying off its hinges.

He was met with a burst of sparks right in his face and a quiet chanting that was steadily escalating in volume.

"burn the witch! Burn the witch! Burn the witch!"

He coughed violently and held tight to the box in his arms. Rage bubbled inside him, growing in intensity along with the chanting. 'how dare they? Those bleeding tossers think they can just come and execute me in my own home?'

His rage dissipated when he spotted Lizzie at the bottom of the stairs, dodging burning bits of falling ceiling. "quick! They're in the front! We have to go out the back!"

Arthur started his decent as fast as he could but lurched back in shock and agony when the stair on which he stood collapsed into splintering wreckage, weakened by the fire.

He shook with adrenaline as he jumped over the step and ran as quickly as he could down the remaining stairs. Lizzie grabbed his arm and pulled him through the blazing kitchen toward the back door.

A loud battering clamor broke out at the front door and Arthur spun around to see a huge crowd formed right outside the windows. They held torches and some held guns ranging from pistols to hunting rifles. They all screamed that god-awful chant now and the front door was thrown off it's hinges.

Arthur saw red.

With an ear-shattering roar of rage, he sent the first two men through the doorway flying back into the yard with some invisible force. The landed with loud sickening cracks and screams of agony, signifying broken bones.

Shouts echoed in Arthur's ears as Lizzie dragged him by his arm out into the back yard.

"he's getting away!"

"quick! Around the back!"

Arthur and Lizzie ran to the back gate. Each house had a back gate leading to a series of alleyways between each structure in the neighborhood.

As they struggled to open the old rusty gate, a group of men with guns ran around into the backyard. The gate creaked open and Lizzie shoved Arthur through the opening as the men started firing. Lizzie slammed the gate closed again, forming a wrought iron barrier between Arthur and his best friend, parents and his burning home.

"Arthur, go! Get somewhere safe! I'll find you when I'm finished here!"

Arthur hesitated a second too long, for one lucky bullet struck right through his side. He gave a strangled cry of pain and turned, lurching forward into a run. He skittered down the alleyways and his running slowed as his blood pattered onto the ground.

"no, Arthur...you can't slow down now..." he murmured to himself. His father's words echoed in his mind and he repeated them aloud for comfort. "you mustn't let them see you cry..."

He took a deep breath and quickened his pace once again, running down alley after alley, ignoring the shooting agony in his stomach. He stopped only once to tear strips off of the shirt he wore underneath his jacket. He used them to bind the wound and stem the blood pouring from his side.

He ran for what felt like hours, following the main street of the tiny town out onto the highway that his mother once traveled to get to her flower shop.

By now it was pouring cool rain onto his scorched skin and Arthur hardly had the energy to raise an arm to shield his eyes. His run had slowed down to an exhausted stagger. Finally, when his body found that it could no longer bear the strain it was under, he collapsed face down in the mud on the side of the road.

Francis muttered a curse under his breath for what felt like the hundredth time that day as he drove home through the rain.

He had spent the last three hours dealing with one of the most insane people he had ever met and now, he could hardly see a thing. Being a therapist could be an extremely interesting job at times but when it came to an eighty-year-old woman with severe dementia who was downright convinced she was Mary, Queen of Scotts, it was terribly exhausting.

It was due to this exhaustion that Francis believed he was hallucinating when he spotted an obviously person-shaped object lying face-down on the side of the road.

Deciding that it wasn't wise to drive while delirious, he pulled over, excited the vehicle and lit up a cigarette in the rain. He had been meaning to quit but had decided against it quickly. He then noticed that the supposed hallucination was still there.

He inched over cautiously toward it and cleared his throat. When he received no response, he spoke up, lit cigarette dangling from his lips. "'allo?"

The young man on the ground groaned and lifted his head from the puddle wearily.

Francis' cigarette fell from his mouth as he took in the bloody and battered face before him. "mon dieu! Come, chere, we must get you out of zis rain!"

He lifted the boy to his feet and helped him to his car. Francis felt his heart constrict when he placed the muddy youth in his nice, clean car and nearly fainted when he looked down at the mud and blood now splattered on one of his favourite suits.

'wait...blood?' he looked down at the young man again and noticed the dark red liquid seeping through his jacket.

He bounded into the driver's seat as quick as he could and sped all the way home, knuckles turning white from his grip on the steering wheel.

A block from his house, he fished his cell phone from his pocket and dialed one of his best friend's numbers clumsily.

"hello...?" answered the lazy, accented voice he had been hoping for.

"Antonio! You need to come to my house right now!"

"Francis? Why right now? Wait...did you get pepper sprayed again?"

"Zat was one time! And, no! I need you to bring your first aid keet!"

"it's a doctor's bag. And why?"

"Merde, just do eet! I don't have time for questions!" Francis slammed a hand on the steering wheel, more stressed, tired and panicked than he had ever been.

"okay, okay! Relax, hombre, I'm heading over right now!"

Francis snapped the phone shut and gave an angry sigh. Antonio was kind of an oblivious dope sometimes but the you Spanish doctor was worth his salt and was ready to help him when he truly needed it. He pulled into the driveway of his two story home, not bothering to pull into the garage and once again lifted the smaller figure to his feet and helped him inside. Once upstairs, Francis set about washing the mud from the boy's face and hair. He managed to remove most of the grime along with the teen's outer clothing.

He was just putting the sopping fabric into his washing machine when Antonio arrived. Francis led him upstairs to the unconscious young man and explained the situation as best as he could.

The Spaniard nodded as he cleaned and treated the wounds on the boy's body. He was just finishing stitching up the gunshot wound in his side when Antonio spoke up.

"so...you found a wounded minor on the side of the road, took him home, undressed him, washed his hair and left him to sleep in you're bed? I hope you plan on video taping your sleeping beauty's violent reaction for me because when he wakes up, BOY is he gonna be PISSED."

Francis gave a carefree shrug. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to eet."

Antonio chuckled. "whatever you say, hombre."

After about an hour of wine for Francis and light conversation, all the while giving the boy the medical attention he required, Antonio took his leave, saying something about a cute Italian waiter he needed to chat up. Francis was once again left alone with the mysterious teenager. He sat in a chair beside the bed, checking the younger man's temperature like Antonio had told him to, and took the time to observe him while he slept. His face was pretty enough aside from the ridiculously think eyebrows that sat above his closed eyes and even those seemed to fit him nicely in a way. His messy mop of hair was a vibrant golden color, a few shades darker than Francis' own and he was a bit shorter and skinnier than average. He wondered what a cute young man like him was doing wandering out in the rain.

Francis looked at the clock and let out a sigh. It wasn't extremely late and he figured that they would both be rather hungry by the time the boy woke up so he turned his back on the sleeping form in order to vacate the room. He made a face at the muddy puddles of water that had formed on his nice hardwood floors but his look of disgust gave way to one of curiosity as he caught sight of an old wooden box, lying on the ground. He leaned down and lifted it up carefully. It didn't look familiar so it must have fallen out of the boy's coat when Francis had removed it. He tucked it under one arm and walked down stairs with it. He set it on the coffee table in the living room and then made his way into the kitchen.

Arthur awoke in a fit of blind terror. For a moment, he had imagined himself trapped in a blazing house, being suffocated by the thick black smoke of the fire. He took a deep breath to calm himself and took a slow look around at his environment. He was in a rather large bedroom, bigger than his own. The walls were painted a nice eggshell color and the curtains and bedding were a light blue. There were paintings of beaches and ships on the sea hanging on the walls. He frowned at the unfamiliar surroundings and got to his feet cautiously.

"Just where the bloody hell..."

He wobbled on his feet unsteadily, nowhere near fully coherent, and leaned against the closed door for support while he balanced out his equilibrium. He racked his brain for anything that could tell him where he was but soon found that he had no recollection of anything but the terrible dream he had just woken up from. He glanced around the strange (yet pleasantly decorated) room for any clues, but, finding none, set out on a nervous trek down the hall.

Halfway down the stairs, Arthur heard a faint humming and the sound of silverware clinking against plates. He slipped into what he assumed was the dining room and spotted a man bustling about in the kitchen, his back turned to Arthur. He was dishing delicious smelling food onto two plates and Arthur felt his stomach rumble in hunger. The man's wavy blond hair was tied back into a pony tail and he wore a blue bathrobe over lighter blue pajama pants.

Arthur was suddenly hit with a wave of panic as his coherence returned to him, snapping his groggy mind to attention. He had no idea where he was, what had happened or who this man was. And he needed answers now.

He snatched a steak knife out of its nearby holder, its serrated edge glinting in the kitchen's florescent lights.

"Hey!" Arthur's voice shook much more than he would have liked as the man jumped in shock and spun around, nearly dropping the cigarette he had pulled from the pack in his pocket. Arthur's hands shook as he held the knife pointing at the older man's chest. "Where am I? How did I get here and who the bloody hell are you?"

A look that Arthur couldn't quite place crossed over the man's face and he held his hands up in surrender. "Easy zere, Cheri...I'm no threat. Put ze knife down, zen we'll talk."

Arthur lowered the knife and dropped it onto the counter with a clatter. Something about the man's calm tone diffused some of his panic, though the ridiculous accent grated on his nerves.

The man smiled, blue eyes unusually calm for having just been threatened with a knife. "Zere now. Let us have a seat and talk, non?"

Arthur scowled darkly. "I'll bloody well stand, thank you."

The man nodded. "as you wish. My name iz Francis Bonnefoy. I found you on ze side of ze road as I was driving home from a leettle town a few miles away. You were in quite ze condition, mon ami, so I brought you home. By ze way, iz zat a gunshot wound?"

"A gunshot wound...? What the bloody hell...?" Arthur glanced down at the bandages wrapped around his torso. Then all the memories of that night flooded to the forefront of his mind. The fire, the mob, escaping into the alleyways, Lizzie staying behind, the gunshot, and finally wandering for hours in the rain. It was a wonder he had survived long enough to make it to the highway.

He began shaking uncontrollably, try as he might to keep up his mask of indifference. "Y-yes." Damn that nervous stutter. He took a deep breath and blocked his emotions from his voice. "I mean, Yes. It is. I'll explain if you must know, but first...is that dinner for me...?"

Francis watched happily as the young man sitting across from him scarfed down his cooking. He ate quickly and hungrily but in a shockingly polite manner. When they had both finished eating and the other blond had offered up some poorly hidden compliments ("Not bad. Y'know...for French food, that is..."), the atmosphere took on a darker tone once again. The boy gained an extremely serious look in his brilliant green eyes.

"W-Well...where I came from...the town you were driving back from this evening...let's just say that I wasn't intensely well liked...and tonight, there was a fire...as I was getting out, one of my neighbors shot me in the side. I guess I must have wandered around until you found me. I'm just lucky I had Lizzie to help me..."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Lizzie?"

The younger blond shot him a pointed look of distrust and Francis took the hint. "So, Chere, what did you say your name was?"

He looked away, avoiding Francis' intent blue stare. "...Arthur Kirkland."

Francis nodded. "Well, Arthur, can I ask why your house was on fire?"

He was met with a glare that could have reduced lesser men to tears. "No, you bloody well may not, you nosy bleeding git!"

The older man laughed easily, unfased. "very well."

Arthur's glare dropped from his face suddenly and was replaced by a look of horror. Francis frowned. "What eez eet, mon ami?"

Arthur stood up quickly using the table to support himself. "My parents...They...No...It's nothing. None of your concern." 'They didn't make it out...Oh god...they didn't make it...they're gone...'

Francis' eyes softened sadly. "You can talk to me, Chere..."

"No...I'm going to bed now...!"

Francis' eyes widened at the speed at which Arthur rushed to the stairs. 'Does he truly wish to hide his emotions zat badly?' He stood up and caught Arthur by his thin arm. "Wait!"

Arthur squirmed in his grasp for a moment before giving up. Francis frowned sadly at the way the other blond's eyes shimmered with repressed tears. "If somezing 'appened, eet eez alright to feel sad."

Arthur's voice came out in a quivering whisper. "no...I can't let anyone see me cry..."

Francis bit his lip and set a hand on the younger's shoulder."Eef eet makes you feel better, you can stay 'ere for a while..."

Arthur shook his head. "I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow."

Francis smiled sadly. "Nonsense."

The Brit looked up at Francis, all traces of tears gone, aside from the tracks down his face. "did you find a box when you found me? About this big, made of wood, sort of heavy?"

Francis nodded and walked into the living room, retrieved the box and held it out to the smaller man. "'ere you are. I bet you wish you had some spare clothes in zere, non?"

Francis snickered as Arthur's face went from confused to mortified to absolutely furious all in about four seconds as he registered his state of undress.

"eef eet makes you feel better, union jack boxers suit you."

The next half an hour was spent finding clothes that would fit Arthur's scrawnier form, forcing Arthur into the shower to wash off the rest of the mud and blood from his skin, and dealing with a very flustered and viciously insulting British man.

"And if you EVER undress me again, so help me GOD, I will SMITE you with all the might of all the layers of Hell! You god damn buggering twat!"

Francis chuckled as Arthur concluded his nineteenth death threat, all the while pulling on a T-shirt that Francis had found for him. He sighed, his anger subsiding slightly as he fixed the golden chain around his neck. Francis had replaced the bedding in the guest room while Arthur was in the shower and he was immensely glad to be rid of the dirt and grime.

Francis wished him a good night before retiring to his own room (it had been a long day after all.) and Arthur set himself down on the bed, holding the box close to his chest. He didn't want to open it just yet. He didn't want to remind himself of the abilities that had caused all of this to begin with.

'They got me ridiculed for years, hated by everyone and now, even my parents are pushing up bloody fucking daisies! All because of these stupid freakish powers of mine! What else am I going to lose because of them?'

He felt tears well in his eyes as he nestled into the comfortable bed, alone with his thoughts in turmoil. He took ahold of his locket and opened it carefully to stare into his parent's happy faces.

Two faces he would never see again.

He'd never hear their voices again, never hug his mother or proof read his father's book chapters.

Even Lizzie was gone.

No matter how long he stared into that tiny gold frame, he'd still be alone.

That night, Arthur's silent tears of anguish, pain and sadness lulled him into an uneasy sleep.

**AN: **

**ANOTHER CHAPTER DONE! And it's all for you guys. I hope you enjoy it and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE Review. More reviews make me want to update faster.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own hetalia**

-chapter 3-

Arthur stirred in his sleep restlessly early the next morning as sunlight streamed through the bay window and across his face. His eyes cracked open slowly and he took a moment to allow his tired eyes to adjust to the bright light. He glanced about in a state of delirium until he remembered the events of the night before. He made a face of annoyance as the sound of Francis humming floated up to him from downstairs, reminding him of the Frenchman's presence.

He sat up and stretched his aching arms over his head. The joints popped and cracked from being slept on. He groaned and pushed himself up to his feet and began making his groggy way out the door and down the stairs.

Francis stood in the kitchen, much like he had the night before, humming loudly to himself and cooking breakfast.

"do you always hum when you cook?" Arthur asked simply, a frown crossing his features.

The sound of his voice must have caught Francis off guard, judging by the terribly unmanly shriek and the way he spun around, prepared to fight for his life with a spatula.

"M-mon dieu! You startled me, Cherie!"

Arthur blinked and raised a bushy eyebrow. "it's terribly rude not to answer a question you've been asked."

Francis blinked curiously. "oh? So now you're concerned with manners? Very well, oui. I always hum."

Arthur nodded and peeked over Francis' shoulder at what was cooking. It some sort of egg dish that Arthur had never seen before in his life and when he asked about it, Francis prattled off a name in French that he couldn't understand, let alone pronounce, so he was completely at a loss.

When Francis finished cooking, they sat down together at the dining room table and ate in uncomfortable silence until the older blond spoke up. "mon ami...perhapz...we zould return to your 'ome and zee if anyzing made it through ze fire."

Arthur's face paled immediately. "NO!...wait...I...I mean..." he sighed. "...you're right. We should." he turned his gaze to the floor sadly.

Francis smiled softly. "splendid. And afterwords, perhapz we could buy you zome clothez zat fit you better."

Arthur scowled. "you don't need to spend money on me, idiot. You don't even need to let me stay here."

Francis reached across the table and swatted the younger man on the nose lightly. "hush. I'm alwayz glad to 'elp zuch a pretty young zing."

Arthur shot him a death glare. "shut your trap, you bloody tosser."

With Arthur dressed in more of Francis' clothes, they set out on the short drive back to the tiny town Arthur had run from.

He sat numbly in the passenger's seat throughout the car ride, staring out the window at absolutely nothing, dreading what he may be faced with in that horrid place. When they arrived in town, Arthur's heart plummeted in fear. He never wanted to see this place again! The people here had nearly killed him just the night before! He slouched down in the seat, trying to hide himself as well as he was able to.

Francis drove them down the main street of the town, waiting for the boy beside him to speak up and tell him where to turn when suddenly, Arthur jumped to attention and unbuckled the seat belt.

"Stop the car!" the young Brit cried out frantically, scrabbling at the locked door.

Francis hit the breaks in confusion as Arthur lurched from the car and onto the sidewalk. Francis looked up to take in where they had stopped and only served to confuse himself further. They had stopped at a towering white church with a sign in front that read something that made his blood run cold.

'Holding the funerals of Henry and Victoria Kirkland. Killed by their own unholy offspring.'

Arthur felt a familiar rage burning inside himself as he shot through the double doors like a bullet out of a gun. Francis raced in after him but froze in the doorway.

Arthur screamed jumbled profanities as he struggled against two men much larger than he was. "GET THE HELL OFF ME, YOU GOD DAMN BLOODY FUCKING-"

The priest conducting the service glared down at him from his pedestal of pious elevation. "begone from this place, you little demon spawn! Your parents are dead because of you! Haven't you done enough?"

Arthur was seething with blind rage. "bugger off, you blasphemous, murdering disgrace of a holy man!"

The priest was thrown into the air violently, propelled by an invisible force, and slammed hard into the wall behind him.

Silence fell for a few seconds before ever single townsperson was in an uproar. Curses and condemnations were shouted viciously as Arthur rushed to the front of the church where two closed caskets sat, side by side.

Silence reigned once more as Arthur fell to his knees with a wail of despair in front of his parents' coffins.

Francis took this time to snap out of his state of shock and rush forward to stand beside the fallen blond.

The priest, who by now was recovering, snapped his fingers and ordered a quick. "remove them".

The two large men from before stood up. Francis smiled nervously and waved a reassuring hand. "o-oui! We are leaving!" he turned back to Arthur and took him by the hand, tugging gently. "let's go now, Arthur."

The younger remained stationary. "no." it came out as a harsh, defiant whisper.

The two men came foreword and took Arthur by each arm, heaving him up roughly.

Arthur's eyes widened and he began cursing and screaming. He struggled tooth and nail, swinging his thin legs in the air violently, trying with all his might to stay as close to his parents as possible. His cries of anguish filled the air, not forming any sort of intelligible speech, but filled with crippling emotion.

However, no pity was taken on the british youth as he was forcibly dragged from the church, Francis running along behind him, and thrown unceremoniously onto the curb. He simply sat there, staring unseeingly into the road.

Francis sat beside him. "Arthur...what waz zat in zere? Ze priest-"

"I threw him." the reply was short and simple, devoid of any regret.

Francis frowned. "how?"

Arthur turned a glare on him. "don't you think if I knew how, I wouldn't have done it?" he looked away.

Francis smiled sadly. "I would 'ave anyway. I've never zeen a man zat waz even 'alf az much of a dick az zat priest." he set a hand on Arthur's narrow shoulder. "you're quite amazing, mon petite Anglais."

Arthur slapped his hand away and sprung to his feet. "there's nothing AMAZING about me! I'm a freak of nature!" he turned away and started walking away towards the town's only cemetery.

Francis, completely undaunted, smiled softly and called after him. "I'll go get us lunch, zen!"

Arthur slumped down in front of the open graves that had been marked for his parents. the service was still going on so Arthur was left to stare into the deep earthy holes in the ground. He looked so stricken and horrified at the sight of them that one would think they were the very jaws of hell he was staring into.

As trapped in his own mind as he was, he failed to notice the boy, about his age, standing at the grave to the right until he spoke up.

"hey, dude! You don't look too good! Are you okay?"

Arthur jumped and spun to face the speaker. He was a tall, athletically built teenager with messy dirty-blond hair and startling, almost unreal, blue eyes that sparkled dazzlingly behind the little metal frames of his glasses. He dressed casually in faded jeans, a T-shirt and what seemed to be a sport's team jacket with the name 'Jones' printed across the front and back.

Arthur blushed furiously, realizing how long he had been staring at the other boy. "I-I'm fine...or as fine as I bloody well can be in a cemetery."

The boy gave a loud, obnoxious, but strangely charming laugh and the smile he turned on Arthur was nothing short of blinding. "those graves you're standing in front of are empty, y'know."

Arthur spared him an exasperated look. "oh? Whatever gave that away? The two gaping holes in the earth?"

But the sarcasm seemed to be lost on the boy as he just gave a wide, goofy grin and nodded. "yeah!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "they'll be filled in a moment."

"who died, huh, dude?"

Apparently, subtlety was lost on him as well.

Arthur made a face. "don't call me 'Dude', you blasted Yankee twit."

"well, I'm sorry, 'Dude'," the American shot him an impish grin. "but I don't know your name."

Arthur scowled. "it's Arthur Kirkland. Take care to use it."

The boy's expression shifted from teasing mirth to something Arthur couldn't quite place. 'oh, god, don't tell me he's heard of me too! Not him...' he paused. 'why not him? I've hardly cared before, not since I was little...I'm used to it. So why not-'

He was broken from his thoughts by the boy's voice, which had taken on a somber tone. "I'm sorry...Kirkland, huh? So they must be your parents right?"

Arthur choked back a laugh of relief. 'he doesn't know!' "yeah. That's right."

The taller boy gave him a sad smile. "I'm really sorry, Artie."

"Arthur." he interjected but the other boy continued undeterred.

"my name's Alfred F. Jones and if ya ever need a shoulder to cry on, I'll be your hero!"

Arthur blushed and looked away. "thanks, but I'm not really the crying type."

Alfred grinned, flashing his dazzlingly perfect teeth. "Well, how about I take you out to lunch? I know some nice places nearby."

Arthur shook his head immediately. "no! I-I mean...not to say I wouldn't like to go out to lunch with you! I-I mean, not that it'd really be 'going out'! I just...! I mean...!" Arthur pouted, face flushed with angry embarrassment. "twit."

Alfred only laughed the insult off. "then, what is it to say?"

Arthur frowned. "I...maybe some other time. In some other place." 'though I'll probably never see you again.' he added in his thoughts.

Alfred slung an arm around Arthur's narrow shoulders. "I'll hold you to that." he smirked.

A horn sounded in the background and the two of them spun around. Francis had driven up nearby and was waving Arthur over.

Arthur extracted himself from the blond's embrace. "I must be going now. Goodbye, Alfred."

Alfred smiled. "see ya, Art. Don't forget about our date, now!"

Arthur glared back at him on his way to the car. "it isn't a date, you bloody wanker!" he sat down in the passenger seat and slammed the door.

"what's not a date, Chere?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "the bloody yank asked me to lunch."

Francis laughed. "well, far be it for me to contradict you. But if zat's 'ow you look after being asked out on a 'not-date' by 'im, I'm beginning to wonder 'ow you'd look after making love with 'im."

Needless to say, Francis was promptly battered by angry British fists.

Francis laughed. "Désolé! Désolé! You just seemed to really like ze boy!"

Arthur looked away. "yeah...but wait...you said 'if that's how you look'...what did you mean?"

Francis grinned. "look in ze mirror, cherie! You were smiling bigger zen I've ever seen you smile before!"

When they arrived home, Francis gave Arthur a bag of food he had bought from the bakery in town (there was no way Francis was letting anyone eat in his precious car.) and they sat down together at the dining room table.

Francis' thoughts were still fixed on the scene he had witnessed at the church. It may have been the twisted curiosity that came from being in the field of psychology, but Arthur had gone from mysterious, injured stranger to the most interesting man on the planet after that little display of psychokenesis.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Francis spoke up. "oh, Arthur...since you zeem to 'ave no next of kin, you could always stay 'ere for your last year of school. We could enroll you next Monday."

Arthur made a face of distaste. "well...I guess I haven't got much of a choice, now, have I?"

Francis smiled and clapped his hands. "zen, when you are done eating, we will go out and get you clothes of your own."

Arthur smiled slightly. "Fantastic. Your clothes are foppish and uncomfortable." he smirked, tugging at the deep red sleeve of the silk button-up shirt he wore.

Francis chuckled. "and you are an ungrateful English brat with no zense of style."

After lunch was finished, the got back into Francis' car and drove downtown to the shopping district of the city. They spent several hours buying clothes and exchanging insults and then they were on their way back with several bags filled with clothes.

Francis stopped the car in front of a block of stores. "one moment, mon ami. I need to pick up somezing from ze dry cleaner's."

Arthur nodded, focusing instead on the stores around him. The names were barely legible in the dimming, late afternoon light. In front of him, he could see Francis rush into a place simply labeled 'dry cleaners'. Beside that was a tailor shop with a sign he couldn't quite make out the name of. He chuckled at the clever store placement.

A ways down the street was a bar titled 'холодная зима' with the translation in smaller, illegible print beneath it. An old fashioned Italian restaurant sat across the street next to a mysterious building that had no words on it except for the 'open' sign. On the other side of the restaurant was a very familiar looking florist's shop.

In mere seconds, Arthur was out of the car and through the door that was labeled 'Victoria's flowers'.

The sign had stated that the shop was open, however, Arthur didn't see anyone around when he entered. "that figures...after all, she is dead."

"excuse me? Can I help you, sir?"

Arthur jumped at the quiet voice that emanated from his right. He turned to face a young man about his age who bore a striking resemblance to that Alfred boy he had met at the cemetery, though this boy had longer, curly hair and a flat out timid look about him that Alfred had definitely lacked.

He was standing behind the counter, wearing the uniform with a name tag reading 'Matthew' pinned to the green apron. Arthur frowned. 'I didn't see him come in...has he been there the whole time?' "o-oh, hello...erm, no, thank you...I was just...was this shop run by a Victoria Kirkland by any chance?"

Matthew blinked his violet blue eyes and nodded slowly. "yes...why? Do you know where she is? She didn't come in today."

Arthur struggled to form the words. "she...she was my mother...she...sh-she...she died last night."

Matthew's eyes widened behind his glasses. "I...I'm so sorry...I...would you like a glass of water or...can I get you something...?"

Arthur shook his head, swallowing his sadness easily. "no, I should be getting back. It was nice to meet you, Matthew, I'm Arthur and you should expect me to return."

Matthew blinked an nodded. "o-okay..."

Arthur crossed to the door and smiled. "you look very much like someone I met today."

Without waiting for a response, he took his leave.

When they arrived back home, Arthur set to interrogating Francis about the city. "so, can I get a job around here?"

Francis nodded. "a lot of ze stores where we were today offer jobs to older teenagers as well as adults. It's because zey're just about all family-owned and ze owners 'ire zeir kids and zeir kids' friends and such."

Arthur nodded. "that's good...I'll probably walk down there tomorrow and apply to a few places."

Francis blinked. "walk? I could give you a ride zere, I'm not working tomorrow."

Arthur shook his head. "nonsense. Walking is good for you. I won't become lazy and dependent on you just because of my misfortune."

Francis blinked. "suit yourself. By ze way, I saw zat you visited ze florist's. Zinking of buying your not-lunch date some flowers?"

Arthur glared at the smirking Frenchman. "of course not, you insufferable twat!" he stormed up stairs to the guest room and slammed the door.

Francis chuckled. "whatever you say, my little Romeo!" he called after him, then added as an afterthought, "I imagine you more as ze Juliet, actually!"

"SHUT YOUR GOD DAMN STINKING FRENCH FACE!"

Francis laughed and went to start making dinner.

Arthur sighed heavily and flopped down onto the bed. He closed his eyes slowly, losing himself in vacant thought until a voice interrupted him.

"there you are! I've been looking all over for you!"

Arthur sat up and turned around. There, sitting at the bay window, was Lizzie, face painted with a worried expression. "you had me freaking out all day!"

Arthur stared at her silently until his vision blurred and a laugh of relief escaped his throat. "you...you made it..."

She frowned sadly. "hey, don't go all soft on me, now! Just tell me what's going on."

He stood up and walked over to her. He stared into her face as though trying to make sure she was really there. She looked the same as she always did, a flower sitting in her brown hair and her green eyes focused and stern. She was wearing a green dress that Arthur had made for here and her pale, off-white wings were folded behind her back.

"w-well...you probably know, but, they're dead, Elizaveta...so...we're going to be staying here until I'm done with school.

She blinked. "where's here?"

"the city where my mom worked. The stupid French frog that saved my life offered me a place to stay."

She smiled slowly. "so...this guy that saved you...is he good-looking?"

Arthur frowned. "huh? Why do you-" realization dawned on him suddenly. "absolutely not, Lizzie! I'm not snogging some bloody frog to satisfy your obsession!"

She pouted. "oh, come on! You remember how thrilled I was when you came out! You're just one big tease!"

Arthur laughed and she smiled slightly. "I'm glad you're okay, Arthur..." she hugged him quickly.

Francis knocked and poked his head in. "are you talking to someone in 'ere? I zought I 'eard somezing..."

Arthur shook his head. "no. Maybe you're just senile, ya bloody old frog."

Francis laughed. "you act more like an old man zen me sometimes. Anyway, dinner is ready."

Arthur nodded and walked downstairs with Lizzie beside him.

**AN: ARRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHH! I ABSOLUTELY HATE WRITING FRANCIS' ****ACCENT! IT JUST MAKES ME WANNA GO UP TO ALASKA AND WHISPER IN THE EAR OF A MOOSE HUNTER (Which is illegal, apparently...****who knew, right?)**

**But of course, I love all of you, my lovely readers. Please, review and the next chapter will be up faster. :3  
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	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own Hetalia**

Chapter 4

The next morning, Arthur roused himself at 7 AM sharp, showered and walked downstairs, pulling on his shoes. He was about to leave when his stomach growled loudly. He sighed and walked into the kitchen to search through the fridge.

His attention was caught by a note on the counter, pinned underneath the pepper shaker. He figured who it would be from and moved over to it. He read the note aloud in a horrendously fake French accent.

"Arthur,

I went out grocery shopping. There are left overs in the fridge. Don't make a mess.

-Francis."

The bottom of the page was signed with a flourish that didn't surprise Arthur in the least. He crumpled it up and tossed it in the garbage can. He opened the fridge, pulling out leftovers from the day before in a Tupperware container.

He dished some food onto his plate, heated it up in the microwave and sat himself down at the dining room table.

Seconds later he heard footsteps on the stairs and turned his head to find Lizzie walking towards him. "good morning, Elizaveta." he greeted with a smile. "I saved you some leftovers." he gestured to the kitchen where the half-full Tupperware container sat.

She smiled slightly. "thanks..." her face fell. "wait, you didn't cook it, did you?"

He glared and continued eating. "my cooking isn't that bad!"

She looked at him with a pitying smile. "it's bad enough to make me fear it on a psychological level."

He made a face at her (being completely mature, of course). "well, I didn't cook it, so you've nothing to fear."

She smiled and dished her food onto a plate and heated it up. She sat beside her friend and they enjoyed their breakfast together.

When they were finished, Elizaveta gave him a devious smile. "so, your boyfriend's a pretty good cook, huh?"

Arthur scowled. "he's bnot/b my boyfriend. I despise that perverted French bastard!"

She laughed. "you're no fun."

He smirked. "I know."

After they cleaned up, Arthur started for the door. Elizaveta tilted her head in confusion. "where are you going?"

Arthur smiled. "I'm going to go get a job. Since we're going to be staying here for a while, it'd be nice to have some sort of income."

She waved. "good luck to you!"

He nodded his thanks and left the house, beginning his trek down the semi-familiar streets. It was amazing how quickly he had become accustomed to these surroundings. The houses lining the sidewalk were nice with well-groomed lawns and shiny cars.

He turned a corner and walked across a crosswalk. There were a few people standing in groups on the sidewalks, having morning conversations, sipping coffee in their bathrobes and slippers, and retrieving their mail.

Everything was so blissfully normal.

He made his way to the little shopping area he had visited the day before. Many streets branched off from this one, twisting and turning deeper into the heart of the city. He checked his watch for the time. Almost 9 o'clock. The shops all seemed to be closed still from the night before. He continued down the road at a steady pace, waiting for the stores to open when he collided with a fast moving, very person-shaped object.

He yelped and fell back and, judging by the surprised shout and pained string of profanity, the person whom he had crashed into had fallen as well.

Annoyed and in pain, Arthur opened his eyes slowly to glare over at the other man. He was taller than Arthur with a head of shocking white hair as well as dark red eyes. "oi! Watch where you're going!"

The albino scowled. "you ripped my awesome sleeve!"

Arthur winced at the loud, heavily accented voice that assaulted his ears. However, being the gentleman he was, he got to his feet, apologizing and holding out a hand to help the stranger up. "I really am sorry..." he murmured again, catching sight of the man's torn sleeve, hanging by a thread from the shirt's shoulder. Arthur felt a small twist of guilt. He must have grabbed hold of it as he fell in his struggle to remain upright.

The albino just scoffed. "you better pay me back for this shirt!"

Arthur frowned. "now, look here. I haven't got any money, but I can mend it for you if you stop being such a pushy brat."

The man stared at him for a minute or two before bursting out into mildly disturbing laughter. "the vay you talk! It seems like you're the older vone! That's pretty awesome, just telling someone off like that!"

Arthur waited patiently for his laughter to die down. The albino spoke more calmly, or as calmly a he could. "so, you can sew, huh? Ja, alright, just follow me."

Before Arthur could protest, the loud young man grabbed him by the hand and dragged him into the tailor's shop.

Arthur glanced around curiously. It was dimly lit, not being open to the public yet. There were bolts of cloth, sewing machines, pincushions of needles, spools of thread and containers of buttons organized by size and color all in their proper places. A sewing mannequin stood in the back corner with a suit jacket draped across it's shoulders.

The snowy-haired man sat down in a chair and held out his arm with the torn sleeve expectantly. Arthur frowned and plucked a needle from a nearby cushion and quickly matched the color of thread to the man's shirt.

He hesitated. "are...are we allowed to be in here?"

The man grinned. "of course! The father of my awesome self owns this place! Now sew!"

The Briton, feeling rather assaulted just then, nodded quickly and started stitching the torn sleeve. A few minutes later, he was all finished. He tied and cut the tread, sticking the needle back into the cushion.

"there you are. Good as new!"

The obnoxious man tugged on the mended sleeve a couple of times and a big smile broke across his face. "hey! You're almost as awesome at this as Vati!"

Arthur tilted his head before his less-than-bilingual brain registered that 'Vati' was 'Dad' in German.

Arthur allowed himself a small smile. "yeah? Thanks. And sorry about the sleeve, again."

The albino smirked. "vell, you should be. So as punishment, I'm going to bother you every time I see you for the rest of time! But that's really more of a reward for you, considering the critical level of my awesome! Be thankful!" the young man tossed his head back and laughed.

Arthur was hardly listening as the other male ranted and raved about his various attributes (though he was quite sure he caught something about '5 METERS' in the jumble of shouting) so he was caught off guard when the man shoved his hand into his personal space, grabbed Arthur's hand and shook it vigorously. "the awesome title of my awesome self is Gilbert Bielschmidt! Who are you?"

Arthur panicked a bit and stammered out an answer. "e-erm, I, uhm, Arthur Kirkland!"

"got it!" Gilbert announced loudly. "I haven't seen you around here. Are you new or something?"

Arthur nodded. "erm, yeah. Francis Bonnefoy kind of...sort of...adopted me?"

Gilbert blinked and nodded. "is that right? He never struck me as the adopting type. Vell, vhat are you doing here?"

"just looking for a job. I'm going to apply to everywhere I can."

Gilbert smiled. "I can't promise anything but if you come back later vhen Vati is vorking, he'll probably be glad to have the help."

Arthur nodded. "I'll check back later, then."

Gilbert waved ecstatically. "see ya, loser!"

He walked out, feeling the strangest combination of insult and amusement he had ever felt. Was it normal for Gilbert to use 'loser' as a term of endearment? He figured it was. He seemed like the type who would.

Once outside, Arthur crossed the street to the Italian restaurant he had seen the other day. It was a cozy little place made of red bricks with a brown roof and a glass door. Many windows lined the walls, letting light in, giving the place a cheerful atmosphere. The sign on the door read 'open' and there were already a few cars there as well as a vespa parked near the back.

He walked inside and was immediately greeted by a bubbly, Italian voice. "bonjourno!~"

Arthur smiled a bit at the young, brown-haired teen who stood before him, dressed as a waiter. He had a huge, friendly smile on his tan face and one lone curl of brown hair stuck out from his head, despite the rest of it being combed back neatly into place. "can I help you?" the boy asked before his smile grew, if possible, even bigger. "Ve~! you're like the same age as me~! my name's Feliciano Vargas, it's really nice to meet you! Do you live around here? I do! It's a really nice place to live-"

"HEY! You big idiot, just seat him already! You talk too god damn much!" came a similarly accented voice, though it was a good bit deeper than Feliciano's.

The shout came from a disgruntled Italian teenager, waiting on a table not far away. He looked a great deal like Feliciano, including the curl, but his hair was darker, his eyes were a lighter shade of brown, almost gold, and a dark scowl was fixed to his face.

Feliciano panicked. "si, si, fratello! I'm sorry!" he grabbed Arthur's hand and started dragging him along.

"hey, wait! I'm not here to eat!"

The other Vargas brother walked over, got right in Arthur's face and glared. "it's a fucking restaurant! Why the hell else would you come here, ah?"

Arthur frowned and backed up to get the Italian out of his personal space. "I was just looking for a job."

The older brother looked away. "tch. Whatever."

"and what's going on here?"

Arthur looked up to meet the kind smile of a tall, curly-haired man with a stubbly chin who was obviously the brother's father, though he seemed to look more like Feliciano.

The older brother rolled his eyes. "he says he wants a job, papa."

The man's eyes lit up. "oh? Well, we'd be glad for the help! What's your name, son?"

"Arthur Kirkland."

The man's smile faded a bit. "I thought you looked familiar."

Arthur frowned slightly. It seemed the news of his family's death had travelled quickly overnight.

He opened his mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted by the taller man wrapping him in a bone crushing hug. "oh, I'm so sorry! She was a great person and an even better friend! You look so much like her! Poor little bambino!"

Arthur squirmed and struggled to inhale as he patted the bawling Italian on the back. "th-thank you...I-I'm okay, though..."

He released the blond teen and held him at arm's length. "no! You're not ok! Of course you're not okay! Don't you worry though! If you ever need anything, you just come here, okay?"

The angry-looking brother scowled even darker. "I think he just wants a job application, father, quit your damn bawling."

The man frowned, handing me a piece of paper from behind the cash register. "now, Lovi-"

"don't call me that."

The man sighed heavily, looking much older just then, as though the weight of the world had just hit him. "Lovino. Try and be a little nicer to people?"

"tch. Whatever." Lovino scoffed and turned away, bringing a few cups of coffee over to a table that seated several people.

The man sighed again before regaining his smile. "I'm sorry about him. He's just a little...homesick right now. My name is Romulus, by the way. Romulus Vargas. Feliciano and Lovino are my sons, aren't they just the cutest?"

Arthur smiled slightly, listening to the never ending, child-themed, word vomit exploding from Romulus' mouth.

'does everyone like a machine gun around here?' Arthur wondered silently to himself.

Romulus ceased speaking after a few minutes and smiled his blindingly bright smile again. "well, just fill that out and bring it back. Be sure to check out the other places too, just in case you find something better."

Arthur nodded and took his leave, waving good-bye to Feliciano and avoiding Lovino's glare.

Arthur smiled slightly. "that went...better than expected." he muttered to himself as he walked across the street again.

He found himself in front of the Russian bar. He figured that he wouldn't be hired but it was worth a shot.

It, too, was made of bricks but lacked all the open, airy windows and overall warmth of the Vargas' restaurant. In fact, there was only one window in the whole building and that was near the top and it was nearly unnoticeable due to it's small size. The door was made of thick black wood with the sign turned to 'CLOSED'.

'I suppose it is a bit early...' Arthur thought. He was about to turn around and leave when he noticed a figure leaning on the side of the bar, tucked into the alley between it and the building beside it.

"excuse me?" he called, walking over.

The man turned and stepped into the light. "da? What is it you are wanting?" Arthur was hit with a puff of cigarette smoke as the speaker took a long drag of the smoke in his mouth. He coughed and took a step back from the owner of the oddly eerie Russian accented voice. He was tall, that much was certain. But even then, 'tall' was an understatement. Compared to Arthur's small stature, the man was a giant. In a contrast to his size he had a round, child-like, almost innocent face with pale skin and hair along with a large nose and bright, unnerving violet eyes. 'Those must be a trick of the light...' he thought to himself. Sure, people had lavender eyes and blue-ish-purple eyes but he'd only heard of people having downright violet eyes when they possessed a genetic mutation. 'what's that called again...? Alexandria's Genesis? And even then, it's extremely rare. The chances are slim to none...'

The stranger yawned, bored. "speak up little one, I haven't got all day, da?"

Arthur blinked and tried to focus on something other than the man's creepy eyes to formulate a response. He took in instead, the man's clothing. He was dressed nicely in black pants, a white dress-shirt and a black vest, over which he wore a long beige scarf. Arthur finally decided on what to say.

"erm. You work here, right? Well, I'm looking for a job and I was wondering..."

He was interrupted when the Russian tapped one of his long fingers on the 'closed' sign. Beneath it hung one that read 'NO MINORS ALLOWED'.

Arthur nodded. "I figured."

The man stared at him for a second before a huge (really creepy) smile broke out on his face. "really, bar is no place for little ones. Can be dangerous work, da? But if you insist, I guess we could find something for you to do." the man laughed and a shudder ran through Arthur's frame. Something about the man's laugh made his blood run cold.

"ah...that's okay...I'm not sure if I'd be such good bar material..." he turned away but the Russian stopped him. "hey. You know I have to kill you now, right?"

Arthur's eyes widened and he was about to start shouting at the man when he started laughing that demented laugh of his. "kolkolkol...is joke, da? You should have seen your face! Hilarious!~"

Arthur rolled his eyes and stormed away.

"Do svidanya, moy drug!~" the Russian called after him in his native language and retreated back into the bar.

Arthur felt a lingering uneasiness when he approached his mother's old flower shop. He walked past but, for the second time that day, he rammed right into a warm, person-shaped object.

He yelped and shut his eyes, waiting for gravity to reacquaint his ass with the sidewalk but it didn't happen. His eyes fluttered open to meet vibrant, bespectacled blue ones. The searched Arthur's face for all of one second before widening in recognition.

"Hey! Artie! It's you! What're ya doing here, dude? I didn't think I'd ever see you again!"

Arthur smiled softly in spite of himself as that loud, cheerful voice that hadn't left his mind since he had heard it last filled his ears. "hello, Alfred..." his face fell and he shook his head. 'you're acting like a lovesick preteen girl! Knock it the bloody hell off!' he blinked as he tried to turn away from Alfred but realized slowly that he was no longer in contact with the ground. It seemed that, to catch him from his fall, Alfred had lifted him off his feet and into his arms.

"put me down, you bloody yankee!" he yelled, squirming. Alfred laughed, unfazed, and set the angry Brit onto his feet. Arthur glared up at the American, fighting back a smile. "so, I take it you live here?"

Alfred nodded. "yeah, my brother and I and our folks. It's pretty convenient for Mattie's work and stuff."

'Mattie? He must mean Matthew. No wonder they look alike.' Arthur nodded and finally let himself smile a tiny bit. "I do too, now. Someone in the city took me in."

Alfred grinned and bounced up and down like a child. "DUDE! That's so cool! We can be BEST FRIENDS!"

Arthur was then locked in what seemed to be a mixture of a hug and a chokehold. He squirmed and struggled. "yes, yes, now get offa me, you big oaf!"

Alfred laughed that contagious laugh of his and Arthur found himself laughing as well as the taller teen let go, grasping the smaller blond's hand instead. "come on, dude! How about that lunch?"

Arthur struggled a bit against Alfred's iron grasp. "r-right now?"

The blue-eyed teen laughed. "of course, right now! I was on my way to get Mattie, anyway, so the more the merrier!"

Before Arthur could protest, Alfred forcibly dragged him down the street to stop in front of the flower shop he had tried so hard to avoid.

**AN:SORRY FOR THE WAIT! I love you all.**

**I have the next chapter completely written out all I have to do is type it!**

**Ciao!~**


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own Hetalia!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

With an ecstatic shout to announce his presence, Alfred slammed his foot into the door, sending it flying open and barging into the florist's shop.

"**_be careful, ya bloody nutcase_**!" Arthur yelped as he was dragged inside.

Alfred sent the disgruntled Briton a grin that rivaled the intensity of a million suns. "but, Artie! I'm the hero! Heroes always have totally epic entrances!"

Arthur rolled his eyes at the loud American. "yeah, okay..."

Matthew rushed over at the sound of collateral damage and frowned. He paused, looking between his brother and the slightly dented door. "...Alfred...really...?"

Said boy turned his blinding grin on him and nodded his conformation. "it's lunch time, Mattie! Let's GO!"

Matthew laughed softly. "how is it you're starving all the time?" he glanced past his twin and his gaze landed on the British teenager behind him. "oh...hello. Arthur, wasn't it? What are you doing here?"

He sent the soft-spoken brother a weary smile. "well, I met your bumbling fool of a brother yesterday and he offered to buy me lunch. He just ran into me outside and apparently in some strange alternate Alfred universe, it's lunch time."

Alfred pouted like a five-year-old who was denied ice cream. "it's 11:30! That's close enough! I'm hungry! Come oooooooooon...!"

Matthew smiled sadly. "A-Actually, Alfred...I don't know if I can go today. What with it getting closer to Christmas and all...and if I went, that would just leave Lukas and Tino..."

Alfred opened his mouth to no-doubt whine for a good twenty minutes when a cold, stern voice interrupted him. "just go, Matthew. I can cover the store for a little while." The speaker was a small, slender boy who looked about 14 but had an almost overwhelmingly mature aura about him, giving him the impression of someone well beyond their years. He had light hair and pale blue eyes that looked just as expressionless as he sounded. His bangs were clipped away from his face by a little Nordic cross in his hair. He wore the uniform and apron along with a small white hat.

"are you sure, Lukas? I don't want to leave you guys understaffed."

"we've been understaffed all day. 30 minutes without you won't hurt. Just take Tino with you. He's been looking kind of upset for some reason."

Matthew tried his best to talk his way out of it, insisting that he wanted to help out, but the stubborn Norwegian held his impassive ground.

Finally, when Alfred no longer possessed the capacity for patience, the short-haired twin stomped into the back room of the shop and returned moments later, dragging the man Arthur assumed to be Tino outside with him, shouting, "**FOOD. NOW.**"

Matthew smiled and apologized for the thousandth time. Lukas just turned him around and pushed him, along with Arthur, outside with Alfred.

Tino was a kind young man of 23 who had moved from Finland to escape some sort of poor family situation that he wouldn't mention. He was a bit taller than Arthur (though that wasn't hard to do) and he had light blond hair and lavender-blue eyes. He did seem to have a sad air about him as he walked with the brothers and Arthur down the street to the Vargas' restaurant. He pleaded with them not to worry about him with a smile and a wave of his hand. However, the Fin could tell that Matthew and maybe even Arthur could tell he wasn't being honest.

"Tino, seriously. What's the matter?" Matthew questioned.

Tino sighed, prepared to deny them an answer once again when he paused, spotting a tall man stepping out of a parked police car in full uniform. A smile broke out on his face as he rushed over to the officer and threw his arms around the taller man.

Arthur shot Matthew a questioning look but Alfred answered before the quiet teen had a chance. "The cop is Berwald Oxenstierna. He's...kind of a scary dude, but that doesn't matter to a hero!" he announced, puffing out his chest in an amusing herculean pose.

Matthew smiled as he watched Berwald plant a kiss on the top of Tino's head. "they're practically married, no matter what Tino says. They live together and everything. It's really cute." he smiled sadly. "but Tino gets depressed about Berwald's career sometimes. It keeps him out late and he's a little overworked. Not to mention the danger...you don't really see it much up in this part of the city, so usually Berwald is patrolling the slums. Just last month, he was hospitalized for a shot to the leg."

Arthur frowned sadly as the couple walked (read: Tino dragged Berwald by the hand) over to them. Tino introduced Arthur to his lover and they shook hands, Berwald never speaking a word and Arthur feeling terribly intimidated (though he would never admit it.) by the intense scrutiny the police officer's icy eyes held as they burned into his own.

Berwald nodded his greeting to the other two teens and turned to go back to his vehicle.

Tino smiled innocently but clasped his taller boyfriend's arm in what seemed to be a vice-like grip judging by Berwald's flinch. "you think we could bring Berwald to lunch with us?"

Alfred smiled brightly and nodded. "totally, dude! Can't have him working on an empty stomach!"

Berwald tried to force a smile onto his stoney face but failed spectacularly. "Y' r'lly d'nt h've to..."

It took Arthur a moment to decipher what the officer had said through the thick accent he spoke with but Tino seemed to catch on right away. "It's no trouble at all, Bet. Now. Let's. Go." his tone of voice became final despite the smile on his face.

Berwald sighed, finally giving in and allowed the group to lead him down the street to the Vargas' restaurant.

Upon entering, they were met with loud, angry shouts drifting between English and Italian. Arthur glanced over to spot Lovino yelling angrily at a tan, dark-haired young Spanish man. He was well dressed with striking green eyes that seemed oddly familiar.

"Why in all of Hell are you always here, you tomato bastard?"

The man simply laughed. "it's my favorite place to eat, Lovi."

Lovino glared furiously and slammed the man's plate of food down onto the table before storming away.

Feliciano rushed over and apologized profusely before walking over to their group standing in the doorway. "Aood afternoon! Right this way!~" Arthur couldn't help but smile. _'nice recovery'_.

The youngest Vargas led them to a table past the table that sat the Spanish man, contentedly eating his food as though he hadn't just been called a tomato bastard. He looked up as they passed and called out. "hey, wait a minute there, hombre!"

Arthur turned to him suspiciously. "I know you! You're that kid Francis found! Do you live around here, then?"

Arthur frowned. "I do now, I guess."

The spaniard gave him a look of confusion. "huh?"

"I live with Francis now...for now."

A look that was a mixture of pity and confusion crossed the man's tan face. "I-is that right? And he hasn't...y'know...tried anything?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Well, I tend to make interesting first impressions. I'm pretty sure he figures if he did, I'd stab him 47 times in the throat. I'm rather content with that thought so I don't think I'll endeavor to change his mind."

The man stared at him, speechless. "W-Well...my name is Antonio Carriedo. Call this number if anything fatal happens in his case or anything rape-like happens in yours."

He offered the blond teen a business card which he took with a raise of one massive eyebrow. "O...kay..." he pocketed it and turned away.

Antonio blinked. "how rude. Do you have a name or is it just not customary to introduce yourself where you're from?"

Arthur blinked. "Oh. Right. I'm Arthur Kirkland."

Antonio frowned. "Kirkland. As in _Victoria_ Kirkland?"

Arthur glared. "No. Kirkland as in _Arthur_ Kirkland. Does it matter? I'm tired of talking about it. _Bugger off_."

Antonio raised his hands in defeat. "Easy, there, hombre, I'm going!"

He turned and went back to his own table. Arthur sighed and walked the rest of the way to his group's table. He took his seat next to Alfred and said boy immediately bombarded him with questions.

"You know Antonio? How's that? What'd he want?"

Arthur, tired of answering questions as he was, responded in the only way he could think to.

"Eat your food, Alfred."

Alfred stared at him in confusion. "but...but we haven't even ordered yet..."

Arthur ignored this and buried his nose in the menu.

About half-way through eating their meals, Berwald's radio went off.

**"-Units in area-...corner of East and Flores-...217."**

Berwald kissed Tino quickly before standing up and slapping some money onto the table. Tino grabbed his hand quickly. "but...East and Flores, that's-"

Berwald nodded and pried Tino's hand off gently. "I kn'w...I'll be f'ne. Pr'mise."

Tino nodded, though he looked just as worried. "come home in one piece, you hear me?"

He nodded and took his leave of the restaurant, waving a quick last goodbye. Moments later, Arthur watched his police car drive past the windows towards a part of the city he had not yet explored.

Tino sighed sadly and picked at the food still left on his plate. Matthew smiled sadly. "hey...he'll be okay. He promised didn't he?"

Alfred nodded vigorously in agreement, mouth full of food. "Yeah, dude! Berwald is a tough guy! He can handle anything!"

Tino smiled slowly. "...Thanks guys...I'll try and look on the bright side."

Alfred swallowed and grinned. "'atta boy, Finny!"

The Finnish man laughed lightly and beamed at the brothers. "what would I do without you two?"

Matthew smiled. "give yourself ulcers?"

Alfred grinned. "worry yourself into a coma?"

Arthur smiled softly as the twins continued trading possible occurrences. It felt strange to be out having lunch with such an easygoing bunch. They were so friendly and accepting, the exact opposite of the type of person Arthur was used to.

"I..." he spoke up carefully. "I must thank you as well. Not only for the lunch, but for putting up with me."

Matthew blinked and a frown crossed his features. "Arthur...we're not 'putting up' with you."

Arthur's stomach clenched. _'here comes the rejection...I'm such a bloody idiot...'_

"We like being around you!" Tino's kind words interrupted Arthur's self-depreciating thoughts. Alfred nodded and threw his arm around Arthur's narrow shoulders.

"Yeah, Dude! You're our friend!"

Arthur blinked. "I...I am?"

They nodded, or made general sounds of agreement in Alfred's case, and Arthur smiled bigger than he had in a long time.

"thanks...you guys are mine too..."

After lunch, Arthur parted ways with the other three outside the flower shop, explaining his job hunt and thanking them yet again for lunch. He turned to make his way back to the tailor's but barely took a step before Alfred wrapped his small frame in a bone crushing hug, lifting him off his feet yet again.

Arthur felt his cheeks and ears heat up in embarrassment. "Put me down, you big lug!"

After vigorous squirming, Alfred finally submitted to the smaller blond's angry orders, placing the Brit on his feet. Arthur smoothed out his button up shirt and wished Alfred a final farewell before walking into the tailor's store.

Upon entering, he spotted Gilbert sitting atop the counter, swinging his legs and chattering nonstop in German to a stern-looking man with long blond hair, tied back into a pony tail. A single small braid hung down in front of his face. Not far off, a teenager sat sewing a tear in a suit jacket. He bore a striking resemblance to the other man but with much shorter, slicked back hair. They both possessed haunting light blue eyes and strong shoulders.

Gilbert looked up at the sound of Arthur entering. "Vati! This is the guy that fixed my sleeve! He's pretty awesome at sewing. But not as awesome as me, obviously."

The strict-looking teen groaned in annoyance. "Bruder, you don't even know Ihow/I to sew." he spoke in a deep voice with a thick German accent like his brother's.

The man, who must have been their father, looked up. "Is that right? It vasn't a half bad repair, actually. Gilbert says you're looking for a job?"

Arthur nodded. "I am. I've applied at the Vargas' restaurant as well, but..."

The man raised an eyebrow. "if you vant to keep your brain cells, I'd vork here. They're nice people. But complete idiots."

Arthur smiled sadly. "I saw that..."

"Anyvay, if you can be here vhen be nee you, you're hired."

Arthur thought for a moment. "hmm...well, I can make it down here just about every day. I do start school on Monday, though."

The man raised an eyebrow. "My younger son, Ludvig, vill probably be going to the same school as you. There's only one high school nearby here and another deeper in the city. I doubt you'll be going to that vone. You can just vork the same shifts that he does."

Arthur nodded, glancing over to the other brother, Ludwig, who grunted his consent, still sewing. "thank you very much, Mr. Beilschmidt."

The man frowned. "Bernard vill vork just fine, boy, I'm not your teacher."

Arthur smiled slightly. "okay...I'm Arthur Kirkland."

Bernard waved a hand. "I'm aware. I've vorked next to Victoria for years. You think she never mentioned you? Now get out of here, I'm sure someone's missing you."

Arthur blinked and nodded. "I suppose I should get home. Thank you again."

Bernard nodded. "no vork tomorrow, it's Sunday. None of the shops are open."

Arthur nodded and took his leave. Before turning the corner to go back to Francis', he glanced behind him once more at the flower shop. He let himself smile.

"friends. I made friends..."

* * *

><p>Later that evening, when the shop was closing up, Matthew listened contently to his brother chatter on about one subject or another, yet, always managing to find his way back to the subject of Arthur.<p>

Meeting the British boy properly had been an interesting experience for Matthew. It wasn't often that Alfred liked someone enough to take them along when they were having, what Alfred's friend Gilbert called 'twin time'.

That time was a big deal, seeing as how twins, let alone brothers were closer than any friends could be. Matthew didn't really mind the British disruption of the natural order. In fact he was enjoying the other blond's company quite a bit.

And Matthew couldn't help but smile when Alfred talked about Arthur with almost the same fervor as he would talk about hamburgers with. He seemed so happy around Arthur that Matthew was almost worried his brother's face would break from smiling.

"We gonna head home soon, Mattie?" Alfred asked, pacing in front of the door.

"You can go on ahead of me, Al, I'll close up the shop."

Alfred smiled. "If you say so. Hurry home, though. Mom'll be worried."

Matthew nodded and watched his energetic brother rush outside into the dying sunlight.

Matthew cleaned up a bit, locked the windows, set the alarm and switched the sign to 'closed'. He walked outside and locked the door behind him.

"Oi! Mattie!"

He jumped at the loud shout from behind him. He spun around and saw Gilbert waving at him ecstatically. The albino ran over to him, grinning.

Matthew smiled slightly. "hello, Gilbert..."

Gilbert had been friends with Alfred and Matthew since he had arrived with his family from Germany in middle school. He was loud and arrogant but surprisingly kind to Matthew.

Gilbert slung an arm around his shoulders and smiled. "so, ya done vorking for today?"

The wavy-haired boy nodded. "mm-hm. I can't stay too long, though. I have to catch up with Alfred. "

He could have sworn a look of disappointment crossed the albino's face. "oh...damn...well...think you'd be up for some lunch tomorrow?"

Matthew smiled. "that sounds good. I'll meet you out here, then?"

Gilbert turned an interesting shade of red and nodded vigorously. "y-yeah! Totally! I...I can't wait! Bye, Mattie!"

Matthew opened his mouth to speak, thoroughly confused, but before he could ask Gilbert if he was feeling well or not, the taller boy turned and ran back into his father's store, shouting something in German.

Matthew stared after him in bewilderment. "erm...bye, Gil...?"

Gilbert sat up in his room, scribbling in one of his many diaries.

_"dear diary,_

**_I AM AWESOME!_**

_I, the awesome Gilbert, have completed the first step of my plan, after weeks of building up my amazing courage! Not that I needed to! I wasn't afraid of anything! Definitely not! Anyway! Mattie is going to lunch with me tomorrow and I'll dazzle him so much with my greatness that he'll be begging the awesome me to be his awesome boyfriend!"_

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><p><em><em>**AN: ANOTHER CHAPTER DONE! I'd really like to get a good amount of reviews...at least two? BY THE BY! There's a person who cosplayed my version of Russia on deviant art. I did as well. :)  
><strong>

**Theirs: http : / / ayoung2345 . deviantart . com / gallery / 37009252  
><strong>

**Mine: http : / / blood-and-chocolate9 . deviantart . com / gallery / 37084765  
><strong>

**Please check them out?  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own Hetalia!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Gilbert waited outside the closed flower shop, sitting down on the sidewalk and rubbing his arms slightly for warmth. It always got very cold there during late December, sometimes even giving the city a good few inches of snow, and Gilbert was not dressed for the weather, in his wife-beater and black jeans. Being so excited about his date with his dear little Mattie, he hadn't stopped to think about grabbing a jacket.

_'Vhere is he...?'_ he thought, glancing in the direction he knew Matthew lived in. "he's almost ten minutes late..."

Normally, Gilbert was one to throw punctuality to the dogs come hell or high water, however, he couldn't help his impatience as he waited for the other boy to arrive.

"Gilbert?"

He jumped up at the quiet voice and turned to find Matthew standing next to him looking rather confused. He wore jeans and a long red jacket, thicker and warmer than the red sweatshirt he usually wore during warmer months.

"are you okay? You were muttering to yourself about time."

Gilbert got to his feet and grinned at the object of his affection. "Don't vorry about it, Mattie! Erm..." the albino's face flushed a bit and Matthew looked at him strangely. "you look...nice..."

Matthew blinked. "This is how I always look..."

Gilbert smiled dreamily. "Yeah...I know..."

Matthew looked away, blushing the cutest shade of red Gilbert had ever seen.

"S-So, erm...lunch?" Matthew prompted shyly.

Gilbert nodded and grabbed the quiet boy's hand. "I know a pretty good place."

Matthew smiled slightly. "Think they have pancakes...?"

Gilbert stared at him. "pancakes for lunch?"

The curly-haired boy flushed in embarrassment. "I like pancakes..."

Gilbert laughed and squeezed the smaller hand in his gently. "ja, Mattie, they serve 'em."

Once the pair arrived at the small diner on East Street, Gilbert was chatting happily with Matthew, still holding the younger's hand in his. They walked inside and Gilbert waved to a young waiter. He was tall, with short, messy blond hair that stuck up in all directions and a big grin plastered on his face. He was definitely Matthew's age, as he recognized him from school, particularly his AP literature class. His blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he waved back.

"Hey, Gilbert! It's been a while since you've been here! Table for two?" he asked, only just noticing Matthew.

Gilbert grinned and nodded. "Ja! Danke, Mathias!"

Mathias nodded and led the pair to a booth by a window. he passed them both menus and smiled. "There you go. Flag me down once you're ready to order. Want some drinks?"

Gilbert and Matthew nodded and each ordered their drinks. Minutes later, after ordering their food, they began to chat easily with each other.

Gilbert sipped his coke and sent the younger teen a smile. "so, how's the shop doing?"

Matthew smiled a sweet smile that made Gilbert's heart beat fast. "it's great! Sales always pick up around Christmas, plus, flowers are always nice to work with. They have a way of brightening your day." Matthew looked over at him, still smiling. "Do you have a favorite flower, Gilbert?"

He blushed lightly and nodded. "erm...ja. I like lilies. Y'know, the vones that look like stars? They're awesome..."

Matthew smiled and nodded. "star-gazers, yeah. Mine are roses. It's cliche, I know."

Gilbert shook his head. "not at all. They're...really awesome. Y'know, more classics than cliches."

Matthew smiled at the albino and took a sip of his water. "I-I'm glad you think so..."

Mathias returned, carrying a plate of pancakes for Matthew and a double-decker sandwich for Gilbert. He set their food down and grinned. "enjoy!"

Matthew thanked him politely while Gilbert began eating immediately.

"the food here is alvays awesome!" he piped up after swallowing his mouthful of sandwich. "it's a shame that it's in this part of town though. Doesn't get much business."

Mathias glanced over at him, worry crossing his features for a second before he plastered his smile back into place. "are you sure you should be hanging around here, Gil?"

Gilbert waved a hand nonchalantly. "I'll be fine! Besides, how vould anyvone know I'm here?"

Mathias laughed. "well, you aren't exactly low profile!"

Gilbert grinned. "you're vone to talk!"

He shrugged and turned away, going off to wait on the other tables. Matthew frowned suspiciously and took a bite of his pancakes. He smiled suddenly. "you're right! This is great!"

Moment after moment passed and they talked and laughed, truly content with each other's company. Once they finished, Gilbert payed the bill and Mathias sent him a grin. "such a gentleman."

Gilbert stuck his tongue out and led Matthew out by his hand.

Outside, Matthew, slowly getting over his shyness, linked arms with Gilbert affectionately. "thanks for this, Gil..."

Gilbert blushed as red as his eyes, "u-uh, ja, Mattie...no problem."

'this is it...' he thought. 'I need to ask him...it's now or never...vait! Vhat do I say? Hey, Mattie. I'm awesome, you're awesome. Let's go somevhere und be awesome together. No! That's so un-awesome! So, Matthew...vill you do me the honor of...nien! Vould you like to...NIEN! erm...Mattie...I...I love you so damn much, just fucking marry me already und ve can be awesome old people years und years after our awesome vedding und have awesome babies! ...um...mien gott...I know vhat I'm **not** gonna say.'

Matthew watched interestedly as Gilbert had his internal struggle. "hey, Gil? Are...are you okay in there?" he knocked on the albino's forehead gently.

Gilbert jumped and nodded. "e-erm, ja! Sorry, Mattie..."

Matthew smiled softly. "It's okay...so what now?"

Gilbert took a deep breath, mustering up all of his (AWESOME!) courage. "Vell...I, uh...I vas vondering...if, maybe..."

"HEY! You fucking piece of shit!"

Gilbert sighed in annoyance. 'REALLY? Right NOW? So much for now or never...' he spun around to face the shout. "Fucking GOTT! Vhat? Vhat do you vant?"

Behind them stood a good sized group of young men all with the same tattoo on the backs of their hands. It was a black letter M surrounded by a circle like the anarchy symbol. The one who had shouted stepped foreword, raising a spiked bat to point at Gilbert's head. "We told you to stay out of our territory!"

Gilbert let out an aggravated sigh. "look, Ray, I'm not here to cause any trouble. Vhy don't you und the rest of the underlings here run back to Sadiq und let me finish my date?"

The man called Ray growled like a feral animal. "if I bust your goddamn head open on the sidewalk right here, maybe he'll promote me! I won't be an 'underling' anymore."

Gilbert laughed. "Ja, you're right. You'll be an inmate! You know Zwingli doesn't take your shit. That's a pretty un-awesome vay to get busted."

Ray smirked. "I won't stay long. Every time the chief's tried to bust any of us, we just pay off the good ol' judge 'n jury."

Gilbert took Matthew's hand and slowly guided him to stand behind him. Ray continued speaking, taking steps foreword towards the pair. "Well, I'd like to say that this little chat with you has been fun, Beilschmidt...but not as fun as this is gonna be."

He raised the bat and Gilbert braced himself for impact.

Suddenly, the door of the restaurant swung open and Mathias stepped between the gang and Gilbert. He swung his left fist in a sharp uppercut, hitting and shattering the bat in half. He hissed in pain and clenched his now bloody hand but a split second later, he was smiling again, a different kind of smile than what Matthew had seen previously. This was a dark, confident smile. The smirk of someone out for blood. The blond turned his head back to the restaurant where a dark-skinned young woman with her long brown hair in pig tails was standing, wearing a look of concern.

"call the police." Mathias told her with a nod.

Ray laughed, despite obviously being shaken by the strength in the Dane's punch. "don't you know better? They can't bust us!"

Mathias joined in with his own laughter, rising in volume as he grabbed Ray by the collar. "I'm not calling them for you, Porter." he spat the man's last name like it was acid. "I'm gonna turn myself in after I break both your legs and throw you into traffic for fucking with my friends and making a scene in front of my workplace." he let go of Ray, shoving him back into the waiting crowd. "now, have a nice day, fuckers."

Ray obviously did not like this at all, for he let out a frustrated yell and whipped out a handgun from the inside of his jacket. "You think you can just fuck with us? Someone's gonna die today, damnit!"

"put that away before you hurt yourself." a calm voice with a British accent spoke from behind Matthew. The long-haired teen spun around and spotted a very disgruntled-looking Arthur with a bag of groceries, watching the scene with a blatantly unamused expression. He pushed past Matthew and Gilbert despite the albino shouting at him not to do anything stupid. He walked straight up to Ray, who was almost a head taller than him. "if you wouldn't mind moving your bloody arses, I'd be eternally grateful because you're blocking the sidewalk."

Ray raised an eyebrow and a few men chuckled. He fixed Arthur with an incredulous stare and pointed the gun right at the blond's head. "you wanna say that again, you limey little brat?"

Arthur raised one massive eyebrow, doing a fantastic job of keeping the worry out of his voice. "think you're such a big tough guy for being able to pull guns on unarmed civilians? Yet you don't even have the balls to pick a fight without your little army of twats here. Just put your toy away, no one's dying today."

Though his speech was calm and confident, his thoughts were rapidly racing about his mind in a blur of adrenaline and fear. _'oh, bloody hell! If he pulls that fucking trigger, I'll have a head full of bullet! U-unless I can jam the gun...! C-can I even do that? For the love of God, I hope I can do that! I'm such a stupid prat! I could have just walked around the bleeding **street gang** but no! This! This right here is why I don't play the hero!'_

The unmistakeable sound of the guns hammer being pulled back pervaded Arthur's thoughts. He shut his eyes tight as he could almost hear Ray's finger tightening on the trigger in what felt like slow motion. _'here goes nothing_!'

**_BANG!_**

Arthur waited for a second before his emerald eyes fluttered open to stare right into the barrel of the gun. It had clearly went off, his ears were still ringing from the deafening sound. But there was no bullet lodged in his head.

In fact, the bullet seemed to have stopped right in the barrel of the gun.

Arthur felt a rush of relief as he registered the look of utter confusion on Ray's face (and likely the faces of Gilbert, Mathias and Matthew who were staring at the scene, frozen in awe). The taller male raised the gun to eye-level check the barrel. Arthur smirked slightly as he was hit with a brilliant way to clear the crowd of gang members.

"an important rule of firearm safety, I believe, is to never point it at yourself."

Ray looked from the gun to the British teen with a sneer. "shut your damn limey mou-"

His voice was effectively silenced as the bullet tore from the barrel of his gun, speeding with the full force it would have had, had Ray just pulled the trigger. The little metal projectile tore through the air and clipped the side of the older man's face.

Blood spilled down the side of his face as he stared at the triumphant blond. "time to go." he shouted to the crowd and they all turned and took their leave as quick as they could while still covering their shock with an air that they had won.

"good day, gentlemen!" Arthur called as Mathias pulled him, along with the other two back into the restaurant.

"you guys should hang back here until the police show up. Just so they don't swarm you again. After that I can walk you guys home." he eyed the unfamiliar Brit. "not that you need the protection! Good GOD, kid, I've never seen anything like that! How did you know his gun would jam?"

Arthur, now looking a bit pale as the adrenaline rush wore off shook his head. "I didn't...a-actually, I was terrified. I still am, in fact."

Mathias nodded. "as you should be. That was incredibly stupid." he smiled big. "but incredible nonetheless."

Matthew agreed, still a bit shaken from the encounter. Gilbert laughed. "man, Arthur, you're more awesome than I thought!"

Arthur smiled. "th-thanks, Gilbert...so, erm...what was that about?"

Matthew frowned as he looked over at Gilbert curiously. He knew that the Beilschmidts used to live in a bad part of town but Matthew would have never guessed his albino friend would have a whole gang after him. He took a seat in a vacant booth to calm his nerves and Arthur pulled up a chair as Gilbert took the seat across from Matthew.

The white-haired teen sighed, an apologetic frown on his usually smug and confident face. Matthew's heart clenched. He had never seen the young man look so dejected. "Mattie...Arthur...I...I'm so sorry..." Matthew frowned. He had also never heard him apologize so sincerely. "I never meant to drag you into that..."

"what happened, Gilbert?" the quiet boy interrupted, for once taking charge of the situation. "why..." he hesitated, nervous with the spotlight on him. "why do they want to kill you?"

Gilbert sighed wearily and looked down at the wooden surface of the table between them, glaring at his reflection. "it's a long story, Mattie..."

Matthew frowned. "I need to know."

The older boy sighed and nodded. "I figured you would say that. Vell...I lived here in this area until sophomore year. Vati drove us to school in the center of town everyday because he didn't can't us here that often. Y'see, until his freshman year, Luddy vas going through a tough time, but I'll get to that later...vhile ve lived here, I got to be friends vith this guy named Sadiq. He's the head of that gang, _Mayhem Erkekler_. That's Turkish for 'Men of Mayhem'. After a vhile...he got me to join it." he held up his left hand and, if one looked closely enough, the gang's tattoo was visible under layers of what must have been make-up. "but...Vhen he vas in 7th grade, Ludvig found out. Und he vasn't happy. He vas a bit of a naive kid, mein bruder...und he followed me vone night vhen I vent to meet vith the rest of the gang. He stopped me outside und begged me to come home. But-" Gilbert's eyes had begun to water but he blinked the tears back stubbornly. "the man you just met...Raymond Porter. He saw him out there vith me und he took that spiked bat of his...und cracked it right on the back of Ludvig's head. I panicked. Mein mind vent blank. I couldn't move at all until I vatched him hit Ludvig's head the _third time_. After that...everything vas a blur. I vas so angry...I landed Ray in the emergency room und...that right arm of his is a prosthetic...I had hurt it so badly that they couldn't repair it...needless to say, the gang vasn't very happy. Neither vas Vati. That bat really did a number on poor little Luddy. He...he can't remember...hardly anything at all from before that attack. That's thirteen years of his life! Gone! He still can't remember anything! Even now...but...anyvay...Vati vas pissed. He called the cops but, as you probably heard just now, most of them are dirty. There are a couple of good vones. Like Bervald und Chief Zvingli, but...it vas almost like it vas rigged so that ve couldn't get ahold of them. Then, vone day, Vati und I fought our vay directly to the chief's office und demanded help. Zvingli drove us home und had me contact Sadiq. Vhen he showed up, he, Vati und the chief all had this big negotiation. The rules are that they von't come hunt us down as long as ve stay out of their territory. Vonce ve get home...everything vill be fine." his voice shook. "I'm...I'm so sorry for this, you guys...it vas really un-awesome of me."

Matthew's gaze softened. "Gilbert...you're just as awesome as you've always been. I forgive you. Just...please...don't go doing things like this, whether I'm here or not...you make me worry..."

Gilbert smiled big. "Ja! You got it, Mattie!"

Arthur smiled softly. "a question, if I may?" he asked politely. "where does that waiter fit in to this?"

Gilbert grinned, feeling rather proud of his Danish friend. "That's Mathias Køhler und he has two things that give him the upper hand on a guy like Ray. One, he's the best boxer on the school's team, not to mention he vins every match vhen ve do tournaments. He could vell be the best in the entire county if he hadn't qvuit the local league. Und, two, he's completely off his gott damn rocker. I svear the man could just smile und laugh through a case of double onstage infanticide."

Matthew's eyes widened. "Wow...I never would have guessed..." He glanced outside to where the tall Danish teenager was arguing with an unfamiliar police officer who was obviously not listening to him. Mathias seemed to get frustrated and growled something angrily. The cop waved his handcuffs at him threateningly and the blond glared and stormed inside as the cop drove away.

"'Do you really want to play this game?" Mathias mocked angrily. "_I'm_ not the one playing games here, you greedy bastard!" he let out a sigh and forced a smile back on his face. "well, let's go, guys."

Gilbert nodded and took Matthew's hand. Arthur followed them as the walked outside. They hardly spoke as they walked back to the familiar street of shops other than Arthur and Mathias introducing themselves to each other. They left Matthew and Gilbert in front of the flower shop where they had met earlier and Arthur continued home with his bag of groceries. Mathias waved and walked away to return to work.

Matthew turned away to go home himself but Gilbert caught him by the hand. "hey, Mattie...now might not be the best time, but...I vas vondering if...maybe you vould like to...erm..."

Matthew smiled and took pity on the poor stuttering boy. He leaned over and kissed his pale cheek. "yes, Gilbert. I'd love to go out with you."

He smiled and Gilbert returned it with a full-force grin. Both of them paused and suddenly blushed seven different shades of red.

"I, erm..." Matthew started but was cut off by Gilbert letting out a shout of delight and crushing his lips against the other boy's in a slightly messy yet surprisingly gentle kiss. Matthew smiled big when he broke away and hugged the giddy albino.

"see you later, Gil..."

Gilbert grinned and waved. "Ja...tschüs, Mattie..."

They both turned. Matthew returned to his home and Gilbert skipped all the way to his own home in the opposite direction. 

* * *

><p>Hours later, Mathias stepped out of the diner, locking it up for the night. He yawned and checked his watch. "1:30...? Damn, I shouldn't have covered Maureen's shift..." he smiled and shrugged, starting on his walk home through the dark, dirty streets, stepping over overturned trash cans and broken glass. The street lights flickered and dimmed slightly and the sound of a woman crying could clearly be heard, breaking the thick, suffocating silence of the night. He sighed as he turned a corner into one of the hidden high class districts in the city.<p>

_'A little pocket of perfection tucked away in this black hole of scum...just out of reach for people like me...funny_.' he laughed sadly.

Tall, shiny buildings stretched up to the sky and sleek cars traversed the clean streets. There was no graffiti, no junkies, no people getting mugged in alleyways. Which is why Mathias felt a stab of dread when he heard shouting nearby.

He peeked down a well lit alley between a tall hotel and a fancy, multi-story restaurant. A red-haired man with green eyes blazing with rage and thick eyebrows stood in the alley, glaring up at a trio of taller men. He was dressed in immaculate black slacks and a starchy white shirt with a black bow-tie hanging loosely around his neck. Moving closer, Mathias recognized a tattoo on the back of the man in the center's neck. It was that of a gang that rivaled Sadiq Adnan's, the Remnants. Remnants of what, Mathias had no idea, but each member carried a tattoo of an eye on the back of their neck. The red-haired man let out a stream of curses that would make a sailor blush and tried to push past the taller men. The determination in his eyes reminded Mathias of that kid he had met earlier, Arthur.

"I already told ye! I don' know whot tha bloody fuck ye lot 'r talkin' aboot. Now get out of me way!"

Mathias watched as one of the men grabbed the Scotsman by the wrist. His fiery green eyes narrowed. "are ye deaf? Get OFF!" a loud crack split the night air as he jerked his elbow up with a good amount of force, granting the man holding him a painful blow to the jaw. He scrambled over to a garbage can and grabbed an empty wine bottle from the container. He smashed it into a jagged edge and pointed it at the men. "GO ON! Get outta here! I'll gut ev'ry one o' ye!"

They turned and left without a word. One glanced back at the red-head as if to relay a message that that would not be their last meeting.

The man sighed and slumped against the alley wall, pulling a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket. He popped the cig in his mouth and lit it, taking a long drag before speaking. "ye'd best be gettin' home, lad. It's fackin' late."

Mathias blinked, realizing that he was being spoken to. "r-right. Sorry, sir, but...what just happened."

"somethin' that kids shouldn' get involved in. And it's Alisdair. Call me 'sir' 'gain 'n I'll pop ye one." he took another drag and muttered something like "damn kids, makin' me feel old..."

Mathias nodded. "oh...okay..." he smiled and waved, continuing on his way.

Alisdair groaned before standing up, releasing the broken bottle from his hand. He pulled out his keys from his pocket and picked up his blue motorcycle helmet from where he had dropped it when those goons had shown up.

_'as if I know who tha fack they're lookin' fer. Bleedin' idiots. Whot do I look like, a fackin' phone book?'_ his thoughts whirled as he slipped the helmet on, mounted his motorcycle of the same color and sped away into the night.

Arriving home to his dark, messy almost empty apartment was never something Alisdair looked foreword to. He lived alone with little more than a sofa and a refrigerator to his name but he counted even that better than his life before.

Growing up with his mother definitely hadn't been easy. He shook his head to clear his memories from his mind but it was very seldom that they left him without a good few shots of whiskey.

He slumped on the couch, staring at the small television that sat unplugged on top of an empty box. He met the dull eyes of his reflection, something he always hated doing. He hated mirrors with a passion and they didn't help to banish his memories in the slightest so he wanted nothing to do with his reflection at the moment.

Giving a sidelong glance at the clock to check the time, he spotted a photograph that he had kept when he moved out of his mother's house. It was a picture of his mother, smiling with her long red hair blowing in the wind and his father, a shorter man with an unruly mess of brown hair, green eyes and thick eyebrows like Alisdair's.

He frowned darkly. _'that man...'_ he thought to himself. _'he left us...'n mam...she snapped...it's his fault...'_

There was no fighting it. His memories overtook him like a wolf overtaking it's prey.

_His mother, Moira Bateson sat at the kitchen table holding a large half empty bottle of whiskey and babbling angrily at the wall._

_Alisdair, then fifteen years old walked over to her, frowning wearily. "ye should go ta bed, mam...it's really late..."_

_She turned her sunken, glossy blue eyes on him and he felt sick at how damaged and broken she looked. Her once-red hair was drastically thinning and gray despite her young age. Her skin was a sickly shade of yellow and stretched tight over her bones which were grossly visible due to her refusal to eat. He bit his lip as she reached a bony hand up to touch Alisdair's short red hair._

_"ye cut it." he voice hardened with rage. "I told ye never ta cut it short."_

_Alisdair flinched. "I...I though'...now that I'm older...it wouldn' matter..."_

_A loud slap echoed through the kitchen and Alisdair's cheek stung badly. He didn't cry. He was beyond tears, far too used to this treatment._

_"YE CAN'T CUT IT! YE LOOK TOO MUCH LIKE HIM!"_

_Alisdair frowned and stared at the floor. "ye can't keep dressin' me up like a girl just 'cause ye don' wanna face the facts, mam."_

_"Alisdair..." her voice softened considerably. She reached a hand out and stroked her son's cheek soothingly. "me sweet babe...why do ye have to look so much like him...?"_

He sighed and stood up, snapping himself free from his reverie, turning the frame down to hide the picture. The picture of _him_.

"Henry Kirkland."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Have I got you hooked yet?<strong>

**Because, if so, a party is in order.**

**Yeah, so...erm...Did I ever mention I have an undying love for minor characters? No? Well expect to see quite a bit of DenNor, more of Scotland, a lot of Switzerland and Austria.**

**BUT OF COURSE WHO COULD FORGET OUR HERO! He isn't in this chapter but he was in my heart...*sniffle***


	7. AUTHOR'S NOTE PLEASE READ!

**AN:**

**Dear readers, **

**I am totally psyked to inform you that I will be continuing this! I'm so sorry for the super long hiatus and I hope that some of you will still read this! I love you all so much and I hope I won't let you down. **

**I had a while there where I thought that I wouldn't be able to finish this but now, I am confident that I shall be capable of great things, and all for you my loves. **

**I have been going through a tough time but I have now officially returned to this.**

**All my love, **

**Evah**


	8. Chapter 7

**AN: I'm BAAAAAAACK! I'm sorry this took so long but I have up to chapter 16 planned out and I won't abandon this again, scout's honor!**

Chapter 7

The next morning, Arthur awoke to the sound of a wooden spoon banging against a pot and an unmistakably French voice calling,

"Arthur! Eet ees time to rise! You start school today!"

Arthur groaned and rolled out of bed, checking the bedside clock. The digital green numbers blinked out at him, mocking him with their brightness.

6:00 AM

He groaned and walked over to his closet. It was now filled with new clothes that Francis had bought him. Some articles were still far too flashy for his liking but he supposed it was a pleasant compromise.

Minutes later, he descended the stairs to the kitchen, showered and dressed in jeans and a dark grey vest over a white button up shirt. Francis stood by the stove, in the process of cooking an omelet. He looked over and smiled a smile far too sunny for such an early hour.

"bonjour, mon petit Anglais!"

"what's so good about it?" Arthur groused, not pleased at all about being woken up so rudely. "What time does this damn school start, anyway?"

"eet starts at eight and you get outat three o'clock. Zey'll probably explain all zat in ze office when you get your schedule."

Arthur grumbled something unpleasant and sat down at the kitchen table. Francis flipped the omelet in the air and caught it in the pan again before setting a plate in front of Arthur and sliding the finished dish onto it. He sat across from him and took an apple from the fruit bowl on the table.

"Eat up, cheri, we 'ave to leave in a little while to get to ze office early for your orientation."

Arthur didn't need to be told twice, digging into the delicious breakfast like he would never eat again.

Once he was finished, Francis ushered him into his car, which was freshly cleaned from the night Arthur had been found. He reached into the back seat and dropped a black backpack full of pencils, lined paper and whatever else Francis figured the young Englishman could need. The frontmost pocket also contained a brown paper bag marked 'LUNCH' in Francis' neat and intricate handwriting.

Arthur frowned, mentally forbidding himself from showing gratitude. "I could have just gotten school lunch."

Francis looked at him with an over-dramatic, wide-eyed look of unparalleled horror, as though the mere mention of those words had made his heart stop. "Non, Cheri, een my 'ouse, you will never eat zat slop!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and suppressed a smile. "oh stop being so French. It isn't that bad!"

Francis shook his head. "Mon Deiu, do you not even know what good food ees? I'll definitely 'ave to feex zat!" he then pulled out of the driveway and commenced their journey to G. Fawkes High School.

Upon his arrival, Arthur noticed one thing about this school. It was absolutely beautiful. There were 10 buildings, maybe more, many stairs, two visible fountains and trees, flowers and vivid greed grass. The place that Arthur stepped into was nothing like his old school with its one building, a concrete, cell block, multi-floored facility and nothing but cement as far as you could see. these buildings were tall and modern, with whole walls cased in colorful ceramic murals and ivy climbing up the sides. Arthur felt comfortable here. Like he had stumbled into a book that far exceeded his own life. A place where no one knew him. A new start. It seemed too good to be true.

Francis had parked his car in front of a small building with a silvery placard on the only door marked 'OFFICE'. He got out of the driver's side door and went around the side, opening the passenger door for Arthur. "your new castle, milady, let us go greet ze peasants."

His tone was playful and teasing but, because of the way he had said that, or perhaps what he had said, made Arthur remember. Remember the way his father had called him 'King Arthur'. He felt sick to his stomach and his head lurched as he stumbled out of the car. The door slammed behind him, seemingly of it's own accord and Arthur, realizing that he had to calm down, took a few deep breaths and nodded.

"I apologize for that, just a little dizzy spell." The young Brit said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He had regained most of his composure and was now walking determinately towards the office.

Francis decided that it was better not to ask now and followed suit.

The inside of the office building was painted a bright blue-green color, like the waters of the Caribbean that Arthur had seen in the books in his father's library. The front desk was bright white and held stacks of papers, several folders and a couple vases of flowers. There were photographs in cute little frames and crayon drawings tacked to the wall. Francis looked around for some sign of life and was nearly startled out of his skin when a fair haired boy who couldn't be more than 10 popped up from behind the counter, declaring his victory in scaring the Frenchman.

"HA! I got you, Francis, I got you!"

Francis gave a sigh of relief and smiled gently. "zat you did, Peter. Mon dieu, I nearly died of shock!"

Peter's blue eyes shone with pride and he laughed loudly.

"Peter, if you want to come to work with me, you have to behave, okay?" a familiar accented voice said kindly as a just as familiar man entered the room.

Tino had just returned from photocopying the bulletin announcing the school play to find his adopted son terrorizing two unsuspecting people, yet again.

He walked back behind the counter and smiled, realizing who the visitors were. "Oh, hello, Arthur, Meester Bonnefoy! It's good to see you both again! What can I do for you?"

Francis smiled at the Finnish man. "Zis little Englishman 'as been enrolled 'ere." he said, patting Arthur's head. "could we please get 'is schedule?"

Tino nodded and went back to his computer. "certainly! It'll print in just a second. So how have you been, Arthur?"

Arthur offered a small smile. "perfectly fine, and you? I didn't know you worked here. Or that you had a..." his green eyes settled on Peter, now sitting in a green office chair and making faces at the Brit from across the room.

Tino smiled sweetly. "oh yeah, Peter here is my adopted son. Well, Berwald's and mine. He's quite the handful..." he beckoned to Peter who moved to stand beside him. "Peter, this is Arthur, be nice to him, okay?"

Peter promptly stuck his tongue out at the young Englishman and ran back to spin in the office chair. Arthur's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Tino smiled sadly. "I...I'm sorry about that..."

Arthur shook his head, still scowling at the rude little boy.

The printer in the corner began humming and making an odd clanging noise as it printed out Arthur's class schedule. Tino plucked the paper up and handed it to Arthur. "There you are, my friend. Today is an A-day. That means you only go to the classes on the left. Tomorrow you'll go to the classes on the right and alternate back the next day and so on and so forth. I wish someone was here to show you around..."

As if on cue, the office's door opened and in walked none other than Ludwig Beilschmidt. He looked extremely professional, far too professional for school in Arthur's opinion, and the Brit began to feel underdressed. The tall young man wore a crisp white button down and black slacks. A blue tie hung around his neck, tied in a perfect half windsor knot. His blond hair was slicked back out of his face, just as it had been when Arthur had met him.

"Good morning, Ludwig! You're a helpful young man, would you mind showing our new student around?" Tino asked with a bright smile.

Ludwig turned his icy blue eyes on Arthur and the smaller blond froze. Arthur wasn't easily intimidated by any means, but when he met Ludwig's eyes they were just so stern and cold that he felt as though he should be standing at attention. Ludwig nodded at him. "hallo, Arthur. Ja, I vill show him to his classes."

Tino sighed in relief. "thank you! I'd do it myself, but..." he pointed at Peter who was now drawing, quite contentedly on the wall with crayon.

Bidding Tino and his son goodbye, the three of them left the office. Francis patted Arthur's messy blond hair and smiled. "'ave fun at school, Cheri, be'ave!"

Arthur swatted his hand away. "Cut it out, ya bloody frog."

With a laugh, Francis took his leave of the school and Arthur was left alone with Ludwig, who wasted no time beginning the tour. Arthur handed him his schedule and he walked him from the parking lot to the frontmost building. It was three stories, with a spiral staircase leading up to each landing. Each door was a pretty blue color.

'The same color as Alfred's eyes...like a tropical sea.' Arthur thought to himself. Once he realized what he was thinking, he shook his head. 'shut up, brain!'

Ludwig looked at the smaller boy in confusion. As though he had just said that aloud.

Which in fact, he had.

"Vell...now zat you're done yelling at your brain, zis door here is your first class, English. Directly upstairs is Algebra II. Zis vay, now." the German led Arthur over towards the center of the sprawling school, past a little shaded area with a small koi pond and a fountain in the center in the shape of a giant koi fish. The ground rose into a hill and Ludwig stopped at the top. Below them, the ground dipped sharply and Arthur saw that an amphitheater had been built there. Concrete steps led down into rows and rows of seats, ending at a wide, spacious stage.

Ludwig motioned for him to follow as he walked down the stairs. At the back of the stage, there was a set of dark red double doors. "in zere is ze cafeteria. You can eat in zere or come out here und eat."

Arthur was at a loss. A real amphitheater? He hoped that this school had a good theater program. He followed Ludwig out of one of the side exits and through a garden-like area with a gazebo and another, bigger, fountain. There were flowers of all kinds, colors and sizes and the grass was a vibrant green. They stopped in front of a large, one story building. "Zis door is to ze music room. You go here for your third class. It connects to ze theatre as vell, vhich you have tomorrow. Finally, you have essential living skills, vhich is zat building, right zere." he pointed to a medium sized building that sat back down the stairs and near the parking lot.

"vell, Zat's all for today. I'll show you your other classes tomorrow, but I have to go into one of my classes early. See you." Ludwig turned and walked off brusquely, leaving Arthur alone.

By now, people had begun to arrive, so Arthur made his way downstairs, hoping he was allowed to arrive early to this class.

He walked into the English classroom cautiously, wondering if the teacher would mind.

As it turned out, the English teacher, a Mr. Pace, didn't mind early arrivals at all. The tall, dark haired man greeted the new student warmly with a thermos of coffee in one hand and they spent the time until class began idly chatting.

Once class had begun, Arthur was placed at a table with five other students. He was beginning to wonder what life would be like here when a loud voice broke him from his thoughts.

"Hey, Artie! You're going to school here now?"

Arthur looked to his right. There sat Alfred in all his sunshiny, American glory and Arthur couldn't help but smile. "yes, indeed. It seems we're just destined to be thrown together at every turn."

Alfred laughed loudly and slung an arm around the Englishman's shoulders. "yeah! It's totally sweet!" and with that declaration, he began introducing Arthur to the rest of the group, a wide goofball smile on his face.

'yes...' Arthur thought to himself. 'this will definitely be interesting.'

Arthur's day passed quicker than he would have thought. English was always a class he excelled in and everyone seemed to like him well enough. However, Alfred seemed to be struggling. When the tests that the class had took the week before were passed back, Alfred caught a glimpse of a red 'F' on the paper Alfred quickly shoved into his bag. When Arthur questioned this, the American became flustered.

"I-I think I really need help. I can't hire a tutor, though..." he had said, avoiding Arthur's gaze.

Without thinking, Arthur blurted out, "I could tutor you! English has always been my strong suit. You can come over on the days I don't work."

Alfred hadn't given it a moment's thought before he agreed ecstatically.

The funny thing was, Arthur didn't regret this commitment.

His next class was Algebra II. He was never a huge fan of math. He wasn't bad at it, per say, but he was certainly no whiz kid.

After second period got out, he went down to lunch with the rest of the school. He was invited to sit with Alfred and Matthew (read: "Yelled at from across the room to 'get his British ass over there' by a certain blond with volume issues.), who were soon joined by Feliciano, Ludwig, and a quite Japanese boy that Arthur rather liked, named Kiku Honda.

After lunch, Arthur went to his Music Theory class, along with Alfred, who was also a part of the school's jazz band, to Arthur's surprise. The school's music teacher was a young, prissy-looking man named Roderich Edelstein. Mr. Edelstein dressed nicely (though if you looked closely, you could see where his clothes were mended and altered, likely so he wouldn't have to buy new clothes.) and was very well mannered, treating the students like young adults, as opposed to incompetent children. Arthur had been playing the piano since he was a child and that seemed to be Mr. Edelstein's weapon of choice, so they got along well enough.

His last period of the day was a class called 'Essential Living Skills', which he also shared with Alfred. The teacher sat them together at one of six long tables and proceeded to explain (in no great detail) the basis of the class to Arthur.

It was a class focused on practical skills such as sewing, child care and, showing that Arthur's bad luck still reigned, cooking. When Arthur asked what lesson they were currently on, the teacher, a small Chinese man with long dark hair named Wang Yao, gave an impatient sigh and replied loudly,

"We cooking things! One, maybe two things a week. Look around you, Aiyah!"

Arthur, highly offended by the man's rudeness, glanced to the six miniature kitchen stations, placed along the far wall, separated from each other by a counter. Each included a sink, cabinets, a stove, an oven, a microwave and a miniature fridge. The students were all in their respective kitchens, in the process of making some kind of soup. From the look of it, each station was making something different. Alfred was standing at the counter, mincing vegetables with a content smile on his face. Arthur figured that since they sat at the same table, they would be working in the same kitchen so he began to walk over to him but was stopped by Mr. Yao.

He shoved a red apron into Arthur's arms and exclaimed, "You wear apron like everyone else, aru."

So, only after he had pulled the apron on, he moved to Alfred's side. "what are we making?"

Alfred smiled big, sliding the minced veggies into the bubbling pot on the stove. "Chicken gumbo! We started working on it during lunch, so it should be ready by the end of class." he grinned, giving Arthur a thumbs up and forcibly handing him a large knife. "here! Chop the bell pepper, 'kay?"

Arthur took to his task nervously, clumsily chopping the big red pepper, narrowly avoiding his fingers. Alfred caught sight of the struggling Brit and came up behind him, placing his hands over the smaller blond's. "here, like this." he guided Arthur's hands in slow, practiced motions, coarsely chopping the pepper into many pieces.

He grinned and the young Englishman couldn't help but smile back. "thank you, Alfred..."

The American's charmingly obnoxious laugh rang out through the room. "You're welcome! I mean, you looked like you were about to chop your fingers off if I hadn't swooped in and saved ya!"

Arthur's face turned an interesting shade of red and he glared at the other blond. "yeah, yeah, you great bloody git, I get it."

Through the remainder of the class, they, along with the rest of their group worked on the delicious smelling gumbo and by the end of class, it was complete. Each member of their team sat down at their table with a hot bowl of gumbo and an excited grin on their face. Needless to say, Arthur was horribly confused.

"why does everyone look so happy?" he asked a young Asian girl dressed in pink sitting beside him.

She replied with a gentle smile. "Everyone really wants to be on Alfred's cooking team because every year, he makes gumbo. It's always a different kind but it's always delicious. He'll usually share it with the others if there's enough but his group always gets the first taste."

Arthur looked down curiously at his bowl and slowly raised a spoonful of the stew to his mouth.

It was easily one of the best things he had ever tasted. It was warm and not too thick. The spices brought out delicious flavors in the chicken and the stew had just the right amount of kick to it. Not only did it taste good, it felt good to eat. It warmed Arthur's stomach and made him feel comfortable and happy. He looked around at the rest of the group and they all seemed to be feeling the same thing. Arthur laughed softly. He never would have thought that the American would have such a talent.

When class ended, the well-fed students filled out of the classroom. Alfred waved goodbye to Arthur and ran off to join his brother.

Moments later, Ludwig came marching over to Arthur. "ve are vorking until closing time today. Let's go."

Arthur, left without the chance to argue or question even if he wanted to, was unceremoniously dragged away by the German. They met up with Gilbert in the parking lot, standing beside a dark green Cadillac, grinning like a maniac.

"Vati let me borrow zhe car to come get you two! I vanted to take my bike but I don't have a side car."

Ludwig shuddered and shook his head. "ugh. Zhat zing is a death trap, bruder. You vill die on zhat motorcycle vone day."

Gilbert cackled and shook his head. "Nein! I am an awesome driver!"

"Did you forget all zhe times you failed zhe driver's test? Und how long has it been since you graduated? A year, right? Vas college too hard for you?"

All three of them glanced over to the right where Roderich Edelstein was climbing into his car. The Austrian was smirking at Gilbert with an air of superiority.

Gilbert stuck his tongue out in a totally awesome display of maturity. "Oh, look! It's Roddy! Still crushing on Zvingli? Or are you afraid of being castrated?"

Mr. Edelstein scowled and crossed his arms. "I am not crushing on Vash. I simply have a respect for law enforcement. Unlike a certain albino I know."

Gilbert cackled. "I'm SURE you do~" he made a vulgar motion in the air with his right hand, obviously meant to represent masturbation.

Ludwig and Roderich both turned the same deep shade of red and Arthur had to fake a cough so he wouldn't laugh.

Ludwig grabbed his brother by the arm and shoved him into the driver's seat of the car. He climbed into the passenger side and Arthur got into the back seat. Ludwig turned to Gilbert with a scowl on his face. "step on it, before he rips your throat out."

With a laugh, Gilbert pulled out of the parking lot, leaving behind a seething Austrian.

When they arrived at the tailor's shop, Gilbert was still proclaiming the 'score' "Awesome me: 1, Roddy: 0" and Ludwig was slowly getting a headache.

"Ja, okay, Gilbert, zhat's enough. It's time for Arthur und I to vork." he frowned, handing Arthur a couple of blazers and pairs of slacks to start with. "Go do...I don't know, vhatever it is you do."

Gilbert smirked and hopped up onto the front counter, crossing his legs. "Nein, I'll keep you company! I'm sure you'd both get lonely vithout my awesome self here!"

Ludwig sighed and placed a pair of rectangular glasses on his face, setting to hemming a pair of pants.

Arthur blinked and set his pile of clothing on one of the cluttered desks. He plucked a needle from one of the cushions, threaded it and began stitching a tear in the shoulder of a black blazer. It was slow going at first, but before he knew it, he was lost in the delicate work of his fingers, completely focused. Sewing had always been something he was good at and there was something about the hardworking German beside him and the chattering albino that made him feel comfortable.

In what felt like a minute, hours had passed. It had been a slow day, with only a couple of customers coming in to either pick up their clothes or to place an order for a new suit. Ludwig glanced over to Arthur. "zhat's it, you're free to go."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply with gratitude but Gilbert was apparently having none of it, as he interrupted with, "Hey, do you know vhere Vati is?"

Ludwig shook his head. "Nein, I hope he gets home soon, though, ve're out of food..."

The bell on the door jingled as someone walked in. All three of them turned to see Feliciano Vargas standing there, his usual wide smile on his face. "bonjourno, my friends! I was wondering if you had-a the English homework, pretty pretty please?"

Ludwig frowned. "Nein, do your own vork."

Immediately, the over-excitable Italian fell to his knees in front of Ludwig, clasping his hands together and crying out, "Please, please please, Ludwig?! If I don't do the-a homework, then I'll-a fail the class! If I-a fail then Papa will be disappointed and if Papa is-a disappointed, my-a heart will break an then I'll-a die and I don't want to DIE!"

Obviously at a loss from Feliciano's tirade, Ludwig went to his bag and handed the little brunet a completed worksheet. "just get it back to me tomorrow."

Feliciano gave a loud whoop of joy and threw his arms around the German. "Graziegraziegraziegrazie!"

Ludwig's cheeks turned a light pink and he patted the top of the youngest Vargas' head. "J-ja, you're velcome..."

Giving Ludwig one last affectionate squeeze, Feliciano turned to leave. "Oh, one more a-thing! Your father is talking to-a mine over at the restaurant. He wanted me to a-let you-a know that he'll be home a-soon and that he's-a bringing food! Okay? Bye bye~!"

And with that he ran out of the shop.

"I'm going home now, Romulus." Bernard Beilschmidt told his old friend for what felt like the billionth time, trying to get to the door before the Italian man could pull him back. He had only come to this place for some food for his sons and himself but after the Italian had prepared and boxed up the meals, he had dragged Bernard into a long, meaningless conversation before he could leave. So here he was, trying to get away.

Unfortunately for him, this attempt was in vain. Romulus Vargas grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back, clapping a large hand on his shoulder. "I-a want to say one more-a thing, my friend, just-a one more!" he turned the long-haired German about and leaned in close, face to face with him. "I don't-a want you and your bambinos to-a starve...if you ever need food, don't-a hesitate to ask! I will take care of-a all of you!" tears sprung up in the Italian's light brown eyes.

Bernard scoffed and looked away. "stop that, you. Just let me go home."

Romulus smiled sadly. "you're so much colder than-a you used to be. It's been so long since she-a left..."

Bernard scowled. "don't talk about her."

"I'm just-a saying, you really need to find someone else to sleep with. It would make-a you so much more easy going!" he smiled and patted his shoulder. "you know that I'm-a always there for you, right?"

It took him a moment to realize what Romulus was implying and when he did, he growled angrily, snatched his boxes of food from the counter and stormed out, leaving Romulus at a loss.

He trudged across the street and into his shop. Ludwig looked up from the suit he was mending and nodded in greeting.

Gilbert rushed over an snatched a box from Bernard. "VATI! You brought food! Danke!"

Bernard rolled his eyes and nodded. He glanced over to the window where Arthur Kirkland, the boy he had recently hired, sat. "you can eat vith us if you vant. Zhat damn Italian alvays gives us too much to eat on our own."

And so, Arthur sat down with the Beilschmidts and enjoyed a dinner of penne in meat sauce and German dinner conversation, which was equal parts amusing and terrifying. Amusing, because he couldn't understand most of it and Gilbert's laugh was one of the most ridiculous things he'd ever heard and terrifying because the parts he could understand seemed to be jokes of the darkest kind. (He was all for dark humor, but let's face it, German humor is scary.)

After dinner, Bernard had Gilbert drive Arthur home, as it had gotten rather dark. He walked up to the front porch and nearly stepped on a large bouquet of lilies. He picked them up, noticing the tag with Francis' name on it, unlocked the front door with the key he had found in his bag and stepped inside. The house was dark inside. It seemed that Francis had already gone to bed.

Arthur flicked on a light switch and saw Lizzie descending the stairs. "Arthur, I was so bored here by myself! You have to let me come with you tomorrow!"

Arthur smiled sadly. "alright, but only if you can keep a low profile!"

She smiled and nodded. "Ja! I will, promise!" she looked down at the vase of flowers in his hands. "what's that?"

"dunno. It's for the frog."

She nodded. "well, go take it up to him. And while you're up there, thank him."

Arthur nodded and climbed up the stairs. He stopped at Francis' door and knocked lightly, hoping to several deities all at once that there was nothing...inappropriate happening behind the Frenchman's door.

A long minute later, the older blond opened the door. Immediately, Arthur noticed there was something terribly wrong. Francis' normally perfect hair was disheveled and his blue eyes were red and puffy, like he had been crying.

Arthur was taken aback, unsure of what to say for a moment. He held out the flowers. "erm...these were outside..."

Francis' eyes widened and he looked away quickly, trying to hide the tears forming in his eyes. "m-merci..." he reached out to take the vase with shaking hands. Arthur frowned and handed it over but caught the other blond's wrist when he tried to turn away.

"What's the matter?"

Francis shook his head. "it's nozing, Arzur, I'll be fine in ze morning."

"tell me, or I'm not letting you go." Arthur said stubbornly.

"Arzur...really it's nozing you should concern yourself wiz."

"tell me, Francis." he said firmly.

The Frenchman seemed to be weighing his options (whatever those may be. 'Tell him or chew my own arm off like a trapped coyote'?) and finally nodded with a reluctant sigh. "oui, alright...come in and sit down wiz me..."

Arthur walked into the room. It was dark except for the moonlight streaming through the window which bathed that area in resplendent silver light. Arthur sat beside Francis on his king size canopy bed and waited for him to speak.

"Every year..." he began, his voice cracking. "every year, my friends send me flowers een remembrance of zis day...you see, zree years ago, I 'ad a wife. She was beautiful and kind and wonderful. She was ze very light of my world...her name was Jeanne...or Joan, as many would pronounce eet." he laughed softly, a sad, strangled sound. "anyway...we 'ad been married for four years...she was ze love of my life and..." he choked back a sob. "and we were going to 'ave a child...she was seven months pregnant when...one day, while I was wiz a client, she went out grocery shopping...when I arrived 'ome, she 'adn't returned...I got ze call an hour later. I was panicking but I wasn't prepared to 'ear what ze chief of police told me..." he stopped, body shaking violently with bottled sorrow. "zey...z-zey...zey found 'we body...in a dumpster...! B-burned to death...!" he sobbed uncontrollably for a couple seconds before taking a deep breath. "zere were people who called 'er a witch...but...she wasn't evil...! She was kind and loving...it want 'we fault zat she could do zings zat zey didn't understand..."

This story struck a chord in Arthur's heart and he placed a hand on Francis' shoulder. "People said the same about me you know...if it wasn't for you, they would have killed me."

Francis looked at him sadly. "don't zink zat I'm only taking care of you to make myself feel better...you really are...exactly what I needed in my life. Merci, Arzur...for listening to my old sob story..."

Arthur allowed himself a small smile and shook his head. He stood up and went to the door. "Thank you, Francis. For everything."

AN: review please?


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